Peaches & Cream
by honeypeachcake
Summary: This is a twisted story of all different kinds—a twisted story of love and hate, joy and fear, humans and monsters. [Izaya x OC x Shizuo] {BEING EDITED}
1. The Sought-After Extraordinary

**Welcome to this glorious (not really) rewrite! As I have deduced, I am a trash bag who can't get her stories together. With my other story The Ghost of Ikebukuro, I tried to implement too many character ideas at once and ended up stumping myself because I was juggling so many traits and storylines in my head at the same time, so with this one I decided to pull some of my favorite ideas to create a (hopefully) interesting tale** **...**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the series. I only own my OC.**

* * *

 **The Sought-After Extraordinary**

* * *

If you were to ever mention the name Amane Kei, you would be faced with either one of two reactions. Your poor schmuck of a listener would either be utterly paralyzed with fear, or they would be filled with disgust. Most of the time it was the former. The rumors about her were quite ghastly for a reason.

 _She's completely emotionless._

 _She's some kind of monster pretending to be a student!_

 _I heard that if you chop her arm off, two others will grow out of it!_

What nonsense. Those were all middle school rumors, anyway. As of this moment, Amane Kei was digging her nails into the bedsheets as her older sister ruthlessly pulled on her leg.

"Come on, we have to go!"

"Hm."

"We're gonna be late!"

"Hm."

Akira sighed in exasperation. "Well, if you're not gonna get up, I guess I'll just eat that slice of chocolate sponge cake in the fridge."

Kei sat up immediately. "Good morning to you, my dear sister. I apologize if my morning fatigue has inconvenienced you. I will be off shortly."

"That's what I thought."

With a begrudging groan, Kei pushed herself out of bed and dragged her feet all the way to the bathroom, her blankets tangling around her ankles. Akira tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for a minute. That minute turned into three minutes. And then into five minutes.

"You're taking forever!"

"That is because I actually try to look decent in the morning."

"Every time you talk, I get closer and closer to opening the fridge."

The bathroom door slammed open, a fully-refreshed Kei stepping out from a cloud of steam. "I am now ready for departure. Also, may I implore you to refrain from consuming the confection that I have been peacefully refrigerating."

Akira let out a short laugh. "Yeah, okay." Then, just as Kei was about to grab an apple from the kitchen table, she yanked her by the collar and dragged her through the door. "Let's go, or else we'll be late."

The two girls walked side by side, the early morning sunshine making for an obnoxiously bright day. Pink petals absently drifted from the cherry trees lining the sidewalk, covering the ground in flowery snow. It was almost too similar to a manga cliché for Kei to take it seriously, though she still found it very beautiful.

"...and then the dog turned into a giant bird and started _talking_ to me—hey, are you even listening?"

"Not really," was Kei's blunt answer.

Akira sighed and shook her head. She loved her little sister dearly, she really did (perhaps almost too much), but even she had to admit that Kei wasn't the easiest person to talk to. It would always take a few tries before she could hold a conversation, and even if you _were_ able to get her to talk, if the topic wasn't of interest to her, she'd just end up zoning out—which was exactly what she was doing right now.

But Akira _was_ her sister, and she knew just what to say to make her pay attention.

"So, are you excited to see Heiwajima-san again?"

Kei made a confused face. "Why would I care about him?"

Akira laughed. "Oh, come on, don't try to deny it!"

"Deny what?"

"That you two are meant to be!"

Kei narrowed her eyes at her sister. "What on earth are you talking about?"

A disappointed look crossed Akira's face. "Remember? You guys were so cute in grade school!"

Kei thought to herself for a moment. Oh, that's right, they had gone to the same school back then. She never really considered them friends, though—the most she had ever done for him was bring him his homework while he was in the hospital. After they went their separate ways for middle school, they lost touch just as most people do. If she ever saw him around the city or something like that, then of course she would greet him, but that didn't happen enough for her to care much.

"You're being absolutely ridiculous."

"No way, it has to be fate! First, you split ways after grade school, only to be reunited in a high school romance! You'll see, I will unfold the secret rose that is Kei-chan's fiercely guarded heart—ack!"

Kei delivered a quick jab to her sister's stomach, a displeased expression on her face. "Stop saying strange things."

"I'm just stating the facts. Also, you should be more respectful to your big sister!"

"I was being respectful—I would have punched you otherwise."

"So mean! Is this how you repay your loving sister when she tries to make you happy?"

"You are making me more annoyed than happy."

"By pointing out that you're a maiden struck with love?"

Kei huffed and quickened her pace. "I am not a maiden in love," was the best she could come up with as a retort. This entire conversation was dulling the sharpened wit she had spent years cultivating.

"So then those chocolates you brought for him on White Day in sixth grade were totally platonic, right?"

A delicate blush graced her cheeks. "It is completely customary to gift sweets on White Day," she muttered, stalking away as they approached the large gates of Raijin High School. Akira still managed to catch up despite this, continuing to poke and prod at her younger sister.

"Maybe he'll save you from some thugs with that brute strength of his! Ah, how romantic!" she sighed, placing her hands over her heart.

"Why couldn't I just run from them myself?"

Akira sighed, clearly disappointed by her sibling's candid response. "Jeez, you always take everything so literally. Which reminds me," she trailed off as she ruffled Kei's hair affectionately, "try to stay out of trouble, okay? I'm graduating this year, and I need to make sure that my precious sister can protect herself in the vicious jungle of high school!"

Kei scoffed. Then, after a pause, she mumbled, "I will try."

Squealing, Akira engulfed her in a tight hug. "Ah, my little sister is so adorable! So cute, so cute!"

Sighing in exasperation, Kei carefully extracted herself from Akira's iron grip and hurried away with a curt farewell.

Akira couldn't help but call after her, "You know, if you guys ever end up getting together, he'll have to earn my blessing first!"

In an instant, Kei retreated her steps, tightly pinched her sister's cheek, and then dashed away again. Otherwise, she would have been late for class.

* * *

Yeah, that promise of not getting into trouble? That didn't last very long.

It was only the fourth day of school, and the metaphorical whiteboard slate that was her reputation had been defaced already, despite just having it wiped clean with the end of middle school. All that work for nothing.

See, the thing that happened was this poor girl in Kei's homeroom had been having some rough times lately. Something or other about her family being in debt because of extortion. Of course, this made her the perfect prey for the juvenile bullies that existed in every classroom dynamic. So when class started that day, Kei wasn't surprised by the fake paper money stuffed into the girl's desk and the crude names written on top of it in black marker.

 _How cruel._

She could see the tears pricking at the corners of the girl's eyes as she hopelessly stared at her vandalized desk.

"Alright, who did this to Umemoto-san's desk? Anyone?"

Silence reigned throughout the classroom, the only sound being the girl's quiet sniffles. Kei knew what had happened, as she had seen it when she came to retrieve her schoolbag before lunch a little while earlier—she refrained from speaking, though, because she was still waiting to see if someone else would do something.

Of course, no one said anything; the perpetrators weren't foolish enough to turn themselves in only to be punished, and obviously nobody else wanted to be the second victim of bullying if they were to blab.

In that moment, Kei realized the kinds of people that were in her class, and she grew bored of them.

The teacher turned to his teary-eyed student and sighed. "I'm sorry, Umemoto-san, but if nobody comes forward, then I can't—"

"Hanazono-san did it with three girls from the other class."

Everyone turned to Kei, their expressions all a matching palette of shock except for one. A fox-eyed boy, who before had never particularly acknowledged her existence, grinned ever so slightly. The accused girl stood up from her seat, an appalled look on her face. The teacher narrowed his eyes at her.

"Hanazono-san, I'll see you and those other girls in my office," he said sternly.

Hanazono shot Kei a fierce glare, only to receive an apathetic glance in response. Kei did not much care for bullies, and she was no different. She thought it was silly how the girl attempted to instill some sort of shallow fear in her. Why expend that much effort to intimidate someone when you were already caught? Wouldn't it make more sense if you were trying to keep someone from tattling?

She was getting lost in her own thoughts again. At this point, she wasn't sure how she would manage in her future classes if she already got sidetracked this quickly.

* * *

After the students had been dismissed for the day, Kei quietly approached the victimized girl's desk. Her shoulders were shaking slightly, as if the sadness from the heartless prank still lingered in her.

Kei waited until the classroom had emptied before placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. The girl flinched and looked up, her dejected expression morphing into one of gratefulness as she recognized the person standing before her.

"I'm sorry they did that to your desk," Kei sighed disappointedly.

The girl looked down at her lap. "It's okay, I'm used to it. T-Thank you for sticking up for me, by the way!"

Kei's eyes were comforting. "It was the right thing to do." Then, glancing at the befouled desktop, she offered, "Would you like me to help you clean your desk off?"

"T-Thank you so much!"

After pulling a couple of handkerchiefs from her bag and offering one to Umemoto, the two girls got to work. In a matter of moments, the desk was rejuvenated to its previously spotless glory.

Umemoto was quick to bow in front of Kei. "Thank you so much for everything you've done for me!"

Kei waved dismissively. "You don't have to be so formal." Sparing a glance at the clock, she felt a shiver go down her spine. _I've probably kept Aki-nee waiting._ "I should get going. See you tomorrow."

"Thank you again, Amane-san!"

She gave a small wave and left the classroom, tucking the tinted handkerchiefs into her pocket. As she removed her hand, she noticed some black smudges coloring her skin. With a sigh, Kei turned back around and headed in the opposite direction to the girls' bathroom. Somewhere in the distance, she heard an all-too-familiar thundering roar that accompanied a slight tremor in the building.

 _I should hurry. I wouldn't want to get caught up in that._

After closing the bathroom door behind her, Kei set her bag on the floor and approached one of the sinks. Her attempts at scrubbing away the marks were unsuccessful, and all she really managed to do was smudge them even further, so she gave up and settled for drying her hands.

Just as she tossed a crumpled paper towel in the trash, three other girls entered the bathroom and blocked off the exit. Perfect. She was completely cornered.

Furthermore, how did they even know she was here? And how long have they been waiting just for an opportune moment to jump her?

Hanazono stepped forward from the group and glowered at her. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

Kei had a disinterested expression, as if the whole situation was beneath her. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you stupid or something? That little stunt you pulled wasn't cool."

"I was not trying to be cool, if that is what you're insinuating."

Hanazono's anger only seemed to grow with each word that came out of Kei's mouth. "Drop the white-knight crap, there's no one here to kiss your ass." She shoved her against the back wall and pulled out her phone. "Here's an idea: I'll just strip you, take pics, and send 'em to everyone I know. How's that for a school picture?" She and her group of friends snickered.

Kei gave them a pointed look. "Isn't that just unnecessary? It would simply be a waste of your time, and there's no point to it, anyway."

"The _point_ is to teach you a lesson!"

She nodded in understanding. "I suppose that is why you cornered me in a room with no escape—and you made sure to bring your friends with you just in case things didn't go your way, right?"

Hanazono's face resembled a ripe tomato as she jabbed a manicured finger in her direction. "S-Shut up!" Then, smiling wickedly, she said, "It's time for a photoshoot."

Kei pressed her back against the wall as the group started approaching her, her eyes methodically scanning the room for something useful. _Grab something, anything,_ her mind shouted. _Just keep them away from you!_

Just as one of the girls was about to seize her arm, Kei dove to the side, gripping one of the mops leaning against the bathroom stalls. Brandishing it in front of her, she jammed it against the girl's collarbone, a loud crack resonating around the room. The girl shrieked in pain, falling to the ground with a strangled sob.

"What the—!" Hanazono gaped at her in shock before her fists began trembling with rage. "Get her!"

Someone came up behind Kei and clasped their hands around her throat. Swinging the mop back around, she jabbed the end of it into her attacker's stomach. Said attacker wheezed loudly before collapsing to the floor in a sputtering heap.

Another girl pulled a pocketknife from her blazer with shaking hands and foolishly tried to charge at Kei. She winced slightly as the blade sunk into her abdomen, the girl pressing it deeper and deeper until it reached the hilt.

With a crazed look in her eyes, the girl laughed in a mixture of horror and glee. Her victory was short-lived, though, as Kei uppercutted her chin with the metal piece of the mop. The medical bills that would result from her broken jaw would be an ample exchange for Kei's torn and bloodied uniform.

Hanazono gawked at Kei in terror. She had just been _stabbed_ with a _knife_ and she was still standing. Even stranger was the fact that she seemed not to take notice of the obvious blade lodged in her gut, nor did she seem to care about the blood beginning to seep through her clothes.

"W-What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Kei sighed tiredly. It was the same response every time. "I'd advise you not to get too hung up on it."

Before Hanazono had a chance to decipher her cryptic words, the mop in Kei's hand had collided with the side of her head, and she was knocked unconscious.

Bracing herself for a moment, Kei wrapped her hand around the knife and yanked it out of her stomach. There was the ever-familiar pain for a few seconds, and then it was gone. She gingerly pressed her fingers against the skin there, and just as she thought, the wound had disappeared. Quietly, Kei cleaned the blood off the knife, dried it, and placed it back into the unconscious girl's bag. She may have just laid waste to a group of juvenile bullies, but she wasn't a thief.

Leaning against the mop, she looked at the scene before her and sighed. _W_ _hat a mess._

Hanazono was out cold on the floor, and the three other girls were preoccupied with their own injuries—but they weren't down for long. One of them stood up woozily, the fat tears dribbling down her cheeks mixing with the blood on her chin. "Y-You f-fucking bitch!"

Kei retreated uneasily, not knowing what to do. Escape, she needed an escape, but the door was still barred off. Looking up, her eyes caught a beam of light. The window! No, wait, they were on the third floor—well, that certainly never stopped her before.

Kei spun around and cranked the window open with the metal bar of the mop. There was a loud clatter as she tossed it away and heaved herself up onto the windowsill. The bruised and battered girls stared up at her in confusion.

"No way, is she actually—?"

"You can't be serious!"

"She's fucking crazy!"

Without looking behind her, Kei chucked her bag through the window and jumped.

Her first thought was that the ground was much, much, much farther away than she thought it was. _Stick the landing, stick the landing, stick the landing!_ A number of prayers swam through her head. _I will wash the dishes every weekend, I will help the elderly across the street, I will promise not to eat Aki-nee's stash of butterscotch pudding, I will—_

As she got closer and closer to the ground, she finally found the source of the booming yell she had heard earlier. Said source was continuing his rampage on the athletic field, waving one of the tennis nets around as he attempted to ensnare his opponent. With hair like that, there was no way she could have missed him.

Oh, yes, and there was something else very important that she forgot to mention—yes, right, that he was standing _directly below her trajectory of descent._

It was in this moment that Kei suddenly became very aware of her skirt flaring up in the wind. The only thing more humiliating than literally falling into the crossfire between Heiwajima Shizuo and Orihara Izaya was falling into the crossfire with her skirt hiked up to her waist high enough to make a pinup girl blush.

As she hurriedly tried to preserve her dignity, Kei failed to notice the mangled goal post hurtling towards her.

Like a game bird during a successful hunt, she was entangled within the torn net and sent plummeting to the ground.

* * *

Shinra stood by the sidelines of the athletic field as he watched Shizuo, armed with a metal sign, charge at Izaya. Swift as always, Izaya ducked out of the way and tossed two blades back at him, one of them scraping the side of the pole and the other slicing across Shizuo's cheek.

The violent exchange had been going on for at least two hours now, and the only reason Shinra stuck around was to patch up both parties by the end of it. Not that he was complaining—he would never pass up the chance to observe Shizuo's ungodly strength in action.

Just then, a bag fell at his feet with a _clunk._ Shinra eyed it curiously. "Where did that come from?" He gazed up at the sky, nearly falling over in shock after he noticed a figure leaping from the third floor. "P-Person? Is that a person?" Then, as the shadow began approaching the ground faster and faster, he yelled, "That's a **_person!_** "

At Shinra's loud interjection, Shizuo paused just as the field's tennis nets were about to leave his hand. _What the hell?_

This hesitation gave Izaya an opening, and he delivered a sharp gash across Shizuo's chest.

"You're just like an animal, Shizu-chan—your simple mind gets distracted so easily. It's hilarious!"

Shizuo growled and ripped up the goal post behind him with one hand. "You won't be able to laugh when I _crush your skull!_ "

Izaya smirked, suddenly spotting the girl falling above them. Yes, this was perfect. If he could maneuver it correctly, and he knew he already had, then this would be the fateful day where he finally turned Shizuo into the monster he always knew he was.

Although, he certainly hadn't expected to see her falling from the third floor's window. He thought she would choose the more reasonable option of running away from those bullies, but to each their own, as the saying goes.

As long as the outcome turned out to be the same, Izaya would call it a success. This girl, he decided, was to become the necessary sacrifice he needed to permanently destroy the ugly ink blotch on the tapestry of humanity that was Heiwajima Shizuo. He had known that from the moment he heard her rat out Hanazono and the others, and he definitely knew that now.

He did feel a bit regretful, though—he already liked this girl for giving him an opportunity he couldn't refuse. If she were to live through the next five minutes, he would've liked to know her better.

With the swiftness and cunning of a cat, Izaya kicked off the wall high enough so that he was in the air. Just as he predicted, Shizuo brashly hurled the goal post into the sky without a second thought.

Before it could catch him, Izaya dropped back down with a vindictive smirk. "You know, Shizu-chan, you should really pay attention to where you're aiming—or maybe that alone is too much work for your tiny brain."

Shizuo snarled and looked up at the sky. To his shock, there was someone ensnared amongst the mangled strings of the net. His breath caught in his throat as both she and the net crashed to the ground, a plume of dust and debris erupting at the loud collision.

As the dust cleared away, Shinra rushed over to the large crater left by the impact. Shizuo stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked down, ashamed. He had really screwed up this time.

Izaya watched from a safe distance with a satisfied grin.

To Shinra's—and probably everyone else's—surprise, the girl was completely unharmed. At first he had feared that she had been horribly injured due to the bloodstain on the front of her jacket, but she looked completely fine. A little dusty, yes, but other than that, there was not a single scratch on her body—at least not on the outside. The girl gingerly pulled at the netting, attempting to look for an escape.

Shizuo silently crouched down in front of her, tearing open the net with little effort. He offered her a hand, and she accepted it hesitantly, trying not to focus on where the buttons of his shirt had popped open. His palm was rough and calloused but unexpectedly warm.

Now that he could see her face up close, Shizuo felt like he recognized her from somewhere before. After he had pulled her up by the forearm, she dusted herself off and clasped her hands together politely.

"My apologies if I have gotten in the way, Heiwajima-san."

Shinra hid his smile behind his hand after seeing Shizuo's expression. It was clear that he had never been apologized to by someone who had been _caught_ in the crossfire—the surprise was evident on his face. Actually, it would come as a shock in any situation if the person who had been injured apologized to the attacker. Would the world be more peaceful that way, or would it be worse off?

Shizuo's shoulders slouched as he looked away. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, wow, it looks like Shizu-chan actually managed to catch a girlfriend! Who would've thunk? Although, it might just be impossible for a single-celled monster to feel love, anyway, so I guess that idea has been dashed against the rocks."

Shizuo was just about ready to unearth a slab of concrete and slam it against Izaya's stupid, smug face before all four heads turned at the sound of a foreign voice.

" _What the hell is going on?_ "

There at the entrance to the field stood Amane Akira. Her arms were crossed, and she gazed at the scene through narrowed eyes.

Shinra looked surprised. "Amane-senpai?"

 _That's_ where Shizuo knew her from—he faintly remembered there were two sisters in his grade school named Amane. One was older than him, and the other...

Shizuo's gaze fell on the girl whose arm he was still holding, and he quickly let go.

Akira's eyes traveled from the blood on her sister's shirt to Shizuo's hand wavering near Kei's elbow and then to the dented goal post behind them. She marched past Izaya and toward the three other teenagers, the murderous intent emanating off of her in waves. With the way she was glaring at Shizuo, it really seemed like she was ready to kill him. She probably would have if Shinra hadn't quickly jumped in front of her.

He held his hands up. "Aha, Amane-senpai, this is all just a big misunderstanding! You see, Shizuo threw the goal post in the air—"

Shizuo's fists clenched.

"—I-I mean, Shizuo and Izaya were fighting, and Amane-san just happened to get caught in the crossfire, that's all!" Shinra stuttered nervously. "No harm done!"

Akira gave Kei a quick once-over before directing her iron gaze to Shizuo. "You were the one who threw the goal post?"

For some reason, Shizuo was unnerved by her cold glare, despite the fact that she was a good five inches shorter than him.

"Yeah."

"But you helped her out, right?"

"Yeah."

Akira took a deep breath, and her death-dealing glare was suddenly replaced with a bright smile. "You know, you're a pretty good guy!" Then, she grasped Kei's hand and began leading her away. "See you guys later!"

Shinra watched them leave with a puzzled, but nonetheless satisfied, expression. "Well, at least we settled that." He readjusted his glasses. "They're a pretty strange duo, huh? I really didn't expect Amane-san to apologize to you of all people—I mean, you _were_ the one who threw the goal post in the first place..."

"Do you ever shut up?" Shizuo growled.

"Right, right, right."

There was a moment of silence before Shinra stupidly decided to open his mouth again.

"But when she apologized so suddenly, your reaction was priceless! You should've seen your face—"

"Keep talking and I'll rip yours off."

"Ah, my bad."

* * *

"You're absolutely sure you're okay?"

"I'm not answering that again."

During the whole journey to the school gates, Akira badgered her sister with the same question while Kei silently planned the quickest way to throw her sister into a garbage can.

After a quiet minute, Akira sighed and stretched her arms behind her head.

"You know I'm just worried about you."

"Yes, I know."

They continued to walk in silence until Kei felt a hand on her shoulder. Thinking it was Hanazono back for revenge, she wheeled around almost instantly, only to be met with the cheerful smile of Orihara Izaya.

"Yo!"

Her gaze was icy. "What do you want?"

"Ouch, Kei-chan is so cold! I just came to return your bag—you left it on the athletic field."

Kei took it from his hand cautiously, suspicious of how this boy so comfortably called her by first name. How did he even know what it was? Was he stalking her?

No, wait, he was in her class, wasn't he? She recognized his face from the time she had walked in early and saw him standing by the window, seemingly smirking down at someone in particular. Plus, despite them being only a few days into the school year, the one and only Orihara Izaya had already made a name for himself.

Still, this little bit of familiarity was not enough to dissuade the uneasy feeling his first impression left on her.

"...Thank you."

He waved his finger at her. "You should really be more careful with your things, Kei-chan! Who knows what kind of creepy person could have rifled through your bag?"

"I am looking at one of them right now."

Akira laughed at that.

Izaya feigned a hurt expression, splaying his palm against his wounded heart. "Wow, I dutifully return Kei-chan's property and _this_ is what I get as thanks? How cruel!"

Kei seemed disinterested. "I should be going." She gave him a curt wave. "See you tomorrow, Orihara-san."

"Please, call me Izaya."

"See you tomorrow, Izaya-san."

And with that, their conversation was over. Kei turned back to her sister, resuming their chatter about unimportant things. Izaya's eyes followed her gait as she walked.

 _Yes, Kei-chan,_ he thought to himself. _You really should be more careful._

Nobody else had noticed anything during the events that transpired, but he did.

When Kei had fallen to the ground, Izaya could clearly see that her leg was broken. There was a lump poking from her calf at an odd angle, and for a delightful moment, he considered that her fibula had snapped—how satisfying it would have been to nail that into Shizuo's simple mind again and again.

But then she stood up from the destruction, as if nothing had happened at all.

His first idea was that she was incredibly tolerant to pain, perhaps at the same level that Shizuo was—maybe she had endured years of abuse at the hands of her parents? Or maybe she had dealt with self-induced pain at the mercy of crippling depression? The possibilities were endless!

Either way, he was entertaining the idea of unraveling the explanation behind it. But now, as he watched her walk across the flower petals covering the street, his observations proved to be more interesting than he could have predicted—because now, she walked with her hips swaying at an even pace.

Even someone who didn't feel pain at all could not possibly hope to walk normally after an injury of that caliber.

With this knowledge, Izaya made two discoveries. One, she did not have a complete intolerance to pain, and two, there was no bone sticking out of her leg anymore.

Izaya smiled.

* * *

 **Ah, this just kind of ended up being a whole blurb of sentences mashed together, but I wanted to get all of the characters to interact in one big scene. Whether or not I did that successfully... Well, I'll just leave it up to the reader.**

 **I wish to whoever reads this a good morning, afternoon, or night!** **(＾▽＾)**


	2. Life Is But A Bittersweet Moment

**Thank you to all the people that favorited, followed, or reviewed my story! ＾▽＾**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the series. I only own my OC.**

* * *

 **Life Is But A Bittersweet Moment**

* * *

Over the past couple of months, Kei had been accosted with a constant nagging, as if the small voice in her head grew arms and couldn't help but poke and prod at all of the inner workings of her mind. Except that the nagging actually did have arms, and legs, and a head of black hair, and "it" was a person named Orihara Izaya.

And to make things even better, he was _literally_ poking and prodding at her.

Kei's irritation steadily reached its peak as Izaya began to pinch her waist, trying to earn a reaction that was not the usual smack on the head. The smack came from Akira most of the time, but today was an exception as Akira had spontaneously decided to skip school and stay at home. By "spontaneous," Kei meant "she snored through her alarm and was too lazy to get up," and by "stay at home," she meant "go out to underground clubs and shack up with gooey-eyed gang members."

Kei mourned for her sister's absence as Izaya once again interrogated her about things that were completely unimportant.

"Hey, Kei-chan, what's your favorite food? I would assume that someone as serious as you probably only likes really bitter things, right? Aha! Perhaps you secretly have a sweet-tooth that contradicts your cold personality!"

"Why do you keep bothering me?"

Izaya smirked. "Because I want to get to know you! I happen to find Kei-chan very interesting."

She eyed him curiously. "Why? I never talk to you."

"You are now."

She huffed at that.

Izaya grinned. "So, where's your guard dog today? Hungover or something?" Kei shot him a sharp glare, and he waved his hands carelessly. "I was only kidding, Miss I-Take-Everything-Too-Seriously."

Kei crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. "Why would I tell you? You'll probably just use it for something unseemly, anyway."

"Well, considering you're her precious sister, I assumed you would know she's probably doing body shots with some random fling."

Izaya smirked as Kei's shoulders tensed, and she glared at him with an amount of ire that would make most people tremble in their shoes. He, however, did not. After weeks of observing her behavior, he knew that most of the threats she threw at him were empty. That seemed to be her default defense mechanism, and most of the time she looked so serious that people believed her and stayed far, far away.

Izaya didn't, though, and he enjoyed watching her grow frustrated with him the more he ignored her threats.

Izaya shrugged. "I saw her go into a random club this morning while I was walking to school." Kei relaxed noticeably at this, though her eyes were still guarded. "My, my, Kei-chan, you really are just like a little dog protecting its owner! It's quite cute," he said as his smile turned more sinister, "but ultimately useless."

Just as they approached the school gates, Kei stopped in her tracks. Izaya took the opportunity to twist the knife in deeper and watch it gouge out her insides, her fears, and her deepest regrets.

"You know, you try much too hard to seem cold and closed-off. It would be much more appealing if you just gave up the tough-girl act and succumbed to your naturally weak and reliant character—I'm sure all the boys would love that."

Kei said nothing.

"What was it that made you so protective over Akira-san, hm? Let me guess: something happened to her, right? Perhaps in an attempt to protect you, she ended up being the one who needed protecting—I'm assuming an abusive household? Daddy comes home pissed off and drunk off his ass because he got laid off work that day, and instead of standing up to his boss, he takes it out on his family in the usual cowardly fashion. Of course, Big Sister has to be the hero, but then that results in her taking the brunt of the hits while Mommy goes to powder her bruises and pretend that they're a regular family. All of this accumulates into one enormous guilt-trip, and now you're determined to repay your sister by keeping her out of harm's way." Izaya snickered. "How very unoriginal."

Kei turned around slowly, and Izaya couldn't help the excitement he felt to see the expression on her face. Would she be crying? Or, even better, maybe she would be so overcome with anger that she would attack him in a blind rage!

It ended up being neither.

Giving him a humored look, Kei sighed. "I'm afraid none of what you just said is correct." Her eyes lit up in amusement. "Although, it was quite impressive. Perhaps you should look into detective work—if you did that to anyone else, it most likely would have worked."

Although Izaya's gleeful smile fell slightly, a less vibrant version of it remained. He still had one card left to play.

"Well, Kei-chan is much more resilient than I expected, and for that I applaud you. I should have expected an indestructible mind accompanying an indestructible body."

He couldn't hide his slightly surprised expression after no reaction came from her, his expectations once again challenged.

Kei gave him a brief glance, taking in his wide and curious eyes, and shrugged. "I assumed someone as perceptive as you would figure it out eventually." Then, throwing his signature sly smirk back in his face, she said, "I'd advise you not to get too hung up on it." She gave him a small wave and walked away, her hips swaying rhythmically with each step.

Izaya's eyes narrowed as he watched her leave. Despite the ultimate failure of his first attempt at cracking her façade, his determination was still present. In fact, all this little escapade did was entice him further.

Up until the day she (quite literally) crashed into his sphere of influence, he hadn't heard much about the girl named Amane Kei. Of course, there were the occasional rumors that crossed his ears every so often, but other than that, she just seemed like a blip on the radar; there one moment, then gone the next—but now it was different.

He had made many observations about her over the past months, filing them in his brain for later use. For one, she always seemed to compose herself with a certain elegance, one that you would liken to that of a ballet dancer. Even if something was out of place, the way she carried herself made it seem like it was perfectly normal and that the observer was actually wrong. For instance, Izaya took notice of the fact that her hair was almost always tied up in a messy updo, but whenever he looked at her, all of the stray hairs, the looseness of her bun, the fact that her bangs brushed over the side of her face—all of the faults seemed like they were meant to be there, as if it would be any other way that would look strange and out of place. He would have compared it to the many photoshopped models on magazines that made tiresome beauty standards seem effortless—although he believed that Kei didn't reach the status quo of most of the women in those tabloids.

This uncanny elegance alone was enough to intimidate her peers, if her cold demeanor hadn't already done that for her.

Despite growing up in a city like Ikebukuro, Kei lacked any of the social skills one would expect, and thus people, being the socially-dependent creatures they are, tended to avoid her. She took everything seriously unless it was definitively explained to her, making jokes fall flat on their faces (which just made everyone uncomfortable).

But, even so, Izaya laughed at the people who called her emotionless.

Yes, she may not outwardly react to most things, but after interacting with and watching her for an amount of time that Shinra called "disturbing" and "an extra kind of creepy," Izaya noticed that she carried the same emotions as everyone else; however, they only showed through her eyes—occasional shifts in tone, sometimes shining (pleased), sometimes dull (annoyed).

He then wondered if a ditz like Akira was even adept enough to decipher her own sister's emotions—or maybe he was just giving her too little credit.

But it was after this small revelation that Izaya reminisced about the first day he (formally) met her. He hadn't been paying attention to her, as he honestly thought she would not survive. That was the first expectation of his that she had challenged.

The second was her reaction to Shizuo. He assumed she would be angry, scared, sad, or at least _something_ along those lines, but that was also not the case. Her expression was unwavering, but her eyes shone with a certain shyness that Izaya would expect to see in a fair maiden's face after her hand had been kissed by a knight. (Ha! Shizuo, a knight?)

Not to mention the riot her apology was—Izaya could have gone into hysterics when he saw Shizuo's expression of dumb shock. The muscle-head probably didn't even realize what was going on—although, with a brain the size of a pea, he couldn't really comprehend much, anyway. That was a day full of surprises, to be sure.

And now, he had one new surprise. Not only had she been so casual about her apparent regenerative abilities, the basis of what she had said to him was, "Go nuts!"

Well, who was he to refuse an offer like that?

In that moment, he made a final decision. She would be his crowning achievement, one that he would put on a pedestal and keep above all others. Sure, gathering gaggles of mindless girls through honey-coated words was entertaining, and he would never stop marveling at how easily manipulated humans are, but all of those were very simple endeavors. All he had to do was pull a few strings and the duty was over and done with. Kei was much more complicated—her entire existence was a beautifully ironic paradox.

She was human, yet she had one thing that all humans did not. She was emotional, yet at the same time expressionless. She was the younger sister, yet she was the one taking care of Akira.

He couldn't think of anything more entertaining to toy with.

Yes, he was going to do it. His shining glory would be breaking the paradoxical entity that was Amane Kei.

By the time he came to that conclusion, the school yard was empty, and he was alone.

* * *

Kei slouched over the lunch table, idly picking at the rice balls she had brought for lunch. Without Akira sitting next to her, she had no one to talk to (or, in her case, listen to someone talk and nod along at certain points). And whenever she had Akira by her side, it made it easier to ignore the stares from the rest of the lunchroom boring a hole into her skull.

Despite how often she seemed to avoid her sister's zealous affection, Kei did care for her elder sister dearly. As she sipped from a can of soda, she tried not to think about Akira getting blackout drunk and passing out over a bar stool while some creep puffed smoke on the back of her neck. Would she even be able to get home safely? Did she have someone with her to watch how much she drank? What if some guy tried to—

Before she could stress herself out anymore, Kei stood up from her seat and left the cafeteria, tossing her uneaten rice balls and half-empty soda can into the trash. The chatter of the lunchroom was too loud, and she needed a place to relax.

Passing by a vending machine, she momentarily stopped to purchase two cans of sweetened coffee. One was for herself, and the other was... also for herself.

Izaya had actually been right about her taste for sweets—she would never admit that to him, though. His ego was inflated enough; if anything else happened, he might just swell like a badly-shaped balloon and float up into the sky.

 _Actually,_ Kei considered, _perhaps that is not a bad thing._

After a few minutes of aimless walking around empty corridors, Kei soon found herself standing at the door to the rooftop. A few moments of peace was all she wanted, but when she opened the door, she could see that the space was already occupied.

Shizuo sat on the other end of the rooftop, drinking from a carton of milk with a bitter expression on his face. Blood dripped from a small gash on his head, only serving to annoy him further. Muttering angrily to himself, he crushed the flimsy carton in his fist and finally looked up, unintentionally making eye contact with Kei. She shifted uncomfortably in place.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I was just looking for a quiet place. I will leave."

"It's fine—uh, Kei, right?"

She nodded, and their silent standoff resumed again. Unsure of whether or not she should approach him, she said, "Heiwajima-san, you're injured... Did something happen?"

His shoulders tensed up. Kei took that as a sign to drop the subject unless she wanted to be thrown into the school's swimming pool. She silently made her way over and knelt down in front of him, setting her bag on the ground next to her and rummaging through its contents. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"You're friends with that flea, aren't you?"

"It would be too generous to call him a friend."

Shizuo made a low noise in the back of his throat.

Finally pulling out a box of medical plasters from the contents of her bag, she gave him a cautious glance. "May I...?"

After Shizuo gave her a slow nod, she hesitantly scooted closer on her knees, while he straightened his back into a sitting posistion. He languidly watched her peel one of the plasters from its wrapping and lean closer, embarrassed by the heat rising to his cheeks as she brushed his hair against his scalp with lithe fingers.

She gently placed the patch over the wound, rubbing the corners lightly with her thumb. Seemingly satisfied with her work, Kei sat back on her heels, returned the plasters to her bag, and moved so that she was sitting beside Shizuo. An awkward silence settled between them.

Surprisingly, he was the one to break it.

"Thanks."

"It is my pleasure, Heiwajima-san." The words that left her mouth ran laps through Kei's mind, and she immediately felt embarrassed (not that anyone could tell).

Luckily, Shizuo didn't seem to notice.

"You don't have to be so formal—just Shizuo is fine."

Kei hummed quietly in acknowledgement, crossing her arms over her chest as a cool breeze brushed past her nape.

"Oh, by the way, I forgot to say sorry a while ago."

"Hm?"

"Y'know, for getting you caught up in that whole mess."

The repressed memory made Kei cringe. "Oh... that. It's fine, really."

"I'm... not very good at controlling myself, and that goddamn _fleabag_ won't ever leave me alone—!"

As much as he tried to hold back, Shizuo could feel the uncaged monster that was his temper flaring up again. He really, really, really didn't want to lose it, though—especially not in front of the seemingly nice girl who patched him up, despite the fact that he almost killed her. (He was still unsure as to how she managed to survive that—and in perfect health, no less.)

His fists clenched as the reprimanding voice in his head steadily faded, being replaced by a shrill ringing in his ears.

Kei, sensing an oncoming storm, changed the subject. It had worked just a few minutes before, so she assumed it would work now. "You know, I understand why you come up here."

"Huh?"

She quietly sighed in content and leaned back on her hands. "It is very quiet, and the wind is refreshing. Somewhere peaceful, like this..." She gazed up at the sky. "I wish I could stay here all day."

At her comment, Shizuo's hardened gaze and tense shoulders relaxed, and he looked up at the blue sky with her, idly watching a puffy cloud float by. He turned to her direction when he heard a rustling sound, watching her pull out two cans of sweetened coffee.

Feeling his eyes on her, Kei held one out to him. "Would you like one?"

Shizuo didn't respond, but he also didn't refuse when she pushed the warm can into his hand. He glanced at the label curiously. The coffee seemed to be mixed with chocolate flavoring and condensed milk—it would make more sense to call it hot chocolate than call it actual coffee.

"You like sweet things, huh?" he noted absentmindedly, not looking up from the label.

Kei slouched unintentionally with an expression you would expect from a toddler caught with their hand in a cookie jar. "I assume it would be unexpected to hear that from me."

Shizuo shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with liking sweets."

"...I suppose."

Cracking open the can with little effort, Shizuo downed most of it in a matter of seconds. After swiping across his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he sighed.

"I guess I owe you three favors now."

In the middle of taking a sip from her own drink, Kei paused. "Favors?"

Shizuo held out his hand and counted on his fingers. "One for almost killing you, one for the bandage, and one for the coffee. That makes three."

"You don't seem too keen on the idea of favors."

He scoffed. "Yeah, well, I'm not that good at remembering things."

"How about this then: the bandages and the coffee will be my payment to you for letting me stay up here."

"What about when... when I almost killed you?"

Kei gave him a teasing glance as she took another sip from her coffee. "I will take that off your tab."

Grinning, Shizuo crumpled the metal can in his fist. "Deal."

* * *

As Kei ignored Izaya's nagging voice behind her, she made a list in her head of the things she needed to do once she got home. She had to finish all of her homework, vacuum the floor, cook dinner for herself, wash the dishes, and then wait for Akira to get home—oh, that's right, she also need to buy some medicine from the convenience store for her sister's inevitable hangover...

"Kei-chan, you're so mean! You keep ignoring me!"

She looked surprised. "You're still here? I thought you would have become bored by now."

"Kei-chan could never bore me!"

"What a shame."

Izaya poked her cheek. "You weren't in the lunchroom today, and I was so lonely!"

"You actually go to the lunchroom?"

He seemed offended. "Of course! Well, only if my favorite Kei-chan is there."

"How unpleasant."

Ignoring her blunt comment, he tugged on her bangs lightly. "Since you so clearly _abandoned_ me in the lunchroom, where did you end up going?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Why would I tell you that?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

She huffed and broke from his gaze. "Because I do not want you to bother me again."

"How rude!" Then, his eyes turned mischievous. "Just to spite you, I'll follow you around every day, even to the rooftop if I have to!"

Kei's eyes immediately snapped to his, a shiver running down her spine. _How on earth did he know? There was no possible way he could have—_

As if he could read her thoughts, he chuckled. "Oh, come on now. You really thought that just because you didn't tell me anything, I wouldn't know?" He knocked his knuckles against her head. "I expected more from you, Kei-chan."

Recovering from her initial surprise, Kei focused Izaya with a questioning gaze. "Shizuo-san was hurt today. Did you do that?"

Izaya hadn't expected her to be the one to bring him up. (Also, since when were those two on a first-name basis?) Ah, well, it's not like he was going to stop now. "I wasn't the one to give him the injury, if that's what you're asking." He smirked. "Well, not directly, at least."

"What do you mean by that?"

The smile that graced Izaya's face was sinister. "Shizu-chan _does_ have a lot of enemies, you know."

He watched in fascination as calm anger clouded Kei's eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but whatever words were meant to come out stopped short with Izaya's next actions.

He leaned down slowly, observing the vexation in her eyes fall away to uncertainty. Their noses were almost touching at this point, and yet her hardened gaze did not waver. He moved closer, close enough so that he could feel her breath on his cheeks.

His hand traveled up the side of her face, moving past her cheek and up to her forehead. In one delicate movement, Izaya plucked a flower petal from her hair and held it out in front of her, smiling.

"You had something in your hair."

Kei quickly shoved him away as he burst into laughter. "You're annoying."

He clutched his stomach as he cackled. "Kei-chan is way more resilient than I ever expected, haha! You should have seen your face—you looked like you were ready to kill me!" He wiped the tears from his eyes, small giggles still escaping him. "Maybe you should learn to relax a little—what if a boy _actually_ tries to kiss you? You'll just end up scaring him away!"

Kei shot him a pointed look, and he held his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry—it was just too entertaining!"

Her eyes narrowed.

"Okay, I'm serious now. Here, let me make it up to you." Rummaging through his bag, he pulled out a can of lemon soda and waved it in front of her face. "Will this make Kei-chan feel better?"

She cautiously accepted it with an unamused expression, holding it between her fingers as if it were a handkerchief soaked in toxic waste.

Izaya pouted. "Aw, Kei-chan, how long are you going to stay mad at me?"

"That depends—how many years are you going to live?"

He poked her cheek playfully. "You can't stay angry at me forever!"

"I can try."

Izaya smirked. "We'll see." Then, just before he was about to walk away, he leaned forward and whispered, "I hope you enjoy the soda—although, you actually prefer coffee, don't you?"

Her breath stopped for a moment, a sour taste filling her mouth as she replayed his words in her head. The sound of soft footsteps echoed around the quiet neighborhood, sounding farther and farther away as the setting sun basked the street in a warm, pink glow.

After Kei was sure he had left, she let out a long sigh and lifted her head to look at her surroundings. She hadn't really paid attention to where they were going, so she was probably lost in some random neighborhood—except her own house's front gate was standing right in front of her.

 _How did he—? Forget it. I'm not going to question it anymore._

The gate groaned as she pushed it open, and never before had she related to an inanimate object on such a spiritual level. After entering her house, she absentmindedly kicked her shoes off by the door and slumped into a chair, her heart still racing from what had just happened.

What was he even trying to do? And why had she become so incredibly nervous?

She gazed at the can of lemon soda on the kitchen table for a moment, her nose scrunching as she scrutinized it. Then, she stood up and approached the refrigerator, deciding that she would cook dinner while she waited for Akira to come home.

The soda can stared.

* * *

It wasn't until 11:55 at night that Akira finally stumbled through the front door, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a pair of gaudy red pumps in the other.

"Heyyyyyy, I'm home!" she slurred, tipping the dusty bottle up to her lips. Kei quickly took it from her hands before she could drink any and ushered her to the couch.

"You should not drink so much," she chastised as Akira drunkenly flopped on the cushions.

"Your _face_ shouldn't drink so much!" Akira snorted out loud at herself. " _Zing!_ "

Ignoring her sister's drunken ramblings, Kei set a plastic bucket next to the couch and draped a wool blanket over Akira. (It took several attempts, as she kicked them off each time because she was too hot.) Then, she pulled up a stool and sat, watching with a straight face as her sister waved her hand out in front of her.

"Heyyyyy, Kei-Kei!"

"Yes?"

"You know—you know that I _love_ youuuuuuuu..."

"I know."

"I love you _soooooooo_ much..."

"Yes, yes, I know."

Akira sat up quickly, feeling a sudden surge of anger course through her veins. Or maybe it was just the whiskey. "Because I _love_ youuuuuu—I want you to be careful around those guys!"

Kei tilted her head to the side in curiosity. "Which guys?"

"You know the guys! The, um, the really angry dandelion and the, uh," she trailed off for a moment before snapping her fingers animatedly, "the weird guy who smiles too much! Oh my god, is he secretly the Joker? Oh my god, Kei, don't hang out with the Joker! He wants to kill Batman!"

Kei tried not to laugh at her sister's descriptions of Shizuo and Izaya. "Right, them."

Akira's face lit up. "Yeah! B-Because you're my teeny-tiny, itty-bitty sister, and you need to be responsible!"

"Right."

"And sometimes you gotta take a chance, you know?"

Kei had stopped paying attention to whatever her sister was saying. "Hm."

"Like, you just gotta go up to the really hot, _really angry_ dandelion guy and just say to him, just say right to his face, 'Hey! Let's have sex!'"

"What?" A blush rose to Kei's cheeks just at the thought of it.

Akira snapped her fingers in front of her face. "You gotta hop on that horse, girl! You know," she held her hands out, spreading her fingers apart, " _life!_ "

Kei pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, wondering how it was possible that Akira even shared the same blood as her.

"And make sure to always use protection, even if you think you're safe, because you're not! Also, caution signs are more dangerous than you think—you see, my one friend ran into one and got this huge bruise on his face." Saluting to an invisible captain, she let her arm flop to the side as her eyes drooped sleepily. "I'm Amane Akira, and I approve... this message..."

Kei let out a tired sigh as her sister finally drifted off, mumbling incoherent monologues in her sleep—her most notable being "Don't take my yo-yo, Satan!" and "What if trees are actually screaming in pain when we cut them down?"

Pulling out a paperback book, Kei settled on the stool and remained a watchful statue by her sister's side. It wasn't until the early hours of dawn that the book slipped from her fingers and she fell asleep, dreaming of chocolate-flavored coffee and yellow dandelions.

* * *

 **This chapter was really fun for me to write, especially drunk Akira! It's actually kind of strange that she was the easiest person to stay in character for, haha.**

 **If anyone has any comments or questions, feel free to leave me a review or a PM!**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	3. Our Peaceful Days Have Gone

**Hey, I'm back with another update! Thank you so much for following, favoriting, and reviewing! It always makes me so happy to see, and I'm glad you're enjoying it!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the series. I only own my OC.**

* * *

 **Our Peaceful Days Have Gone**

* * *

Akira slumped over the kitchen table, the ice in her glass clinking as she swirled it around. She soon stopped, though, as the noise only made the pounding in her head worse. She yanked the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and pulled the ties, leaving just her nose peeking out as she attempted to will away her dreadful hangover.

Kei placed her hands on her hips and sighed. "I reminded you that sugary drinks would only make your headache worse. Do you even remember how many you had last night?"

Akira loosened the ties enough so that her mouth was also poking out, taking a small sip from her ice water. "It was ladies' night at the club, so probably," she counted on her fingers, "ten margaritas or so? And _way_ too many shots of vodka. Did you know that orange-flavored vodka existed? _I_ certainly didn't—"

Kei frowned. "Stop trying to change the subject."

Akira wilted in her seat, guiltily taking another sip of ice water through a bendy-straw. "Look, I'll go to the supermarket today, you should take a break—"

Waving dismissively, Kei found a pack of sticky notes and a pen. "Unnecessary, I can manage on my own—you need to recover from your hangover, anyway." She pulled the pen's cap off with her teeth and bent over the table. "What do we need?"

Akira held up her fingers and counted. "Milk, eggs, ground pork, cabbage—"

"Please slow down, I can't write that fast."

Akira stretched her arms out and pressed her cheek against the cool surface of the table, sighing at the contact. "Bananas, oranges—"

"What do we need oranges for?"

"Mom and Dad are coming home in a couple days, so I wanted to make an orange upside-down cake for them."

"Do you even know how to do that?"

"Unimportant."

Kei rolled her eyes. "Continue."

"Bread, fish—

"Mmhm."

"—and mochi ice cream."

As Kei shot Akira a pointed look, the older sister shrugged. "I'm in pain and have a headache—"

"—that _you_ caused."

She sunk into her seat. "Point taken, but you know you want mochi ice cream, too."

Ripping the sticky note off, Kei grabbed her house key and wallet. "Fine," she relented.

Akira cheered and pumped her fist in the air.

After tucking the shopping list into her pocket, Kei gave her sister a parting wave. "I'm leaving now. Be sure to keep drinking water, and please," she opened the door and fixed Akira with a warning glare, "no alcohol."

She received an enthusiastic thumbs-up in return. "You got it!"

The door shut behind her, and Akira resumed pressing her face into the kitchen table. "This feels so much better."

* * *

Today was a beautifully sunny Saturday morning, and Izaya was bored.

There was no one important around to toy with; everyone was either at home eating breakfast in front of their TV or out and about with their friends at fancy cafés and the like. Izaya didn't have friends like that (he really didn't have friends at all), and he wasn't interested in acting like the typical proverbial sheep and wasting his day away.

He walked with his hands in his pockets, idly rubbing his fingertips against the polished case of his switchblade. There were a few bakeries he passed, the most interesting of them being the battleground between a severely mismatched couple. The girl was loudly claiming that her significant other was a cheating dirtbag whilst said significant other—lovingly dubbed a "cheating dirtbag"—was desperately attempting to convince his raging girlfriend that it was not the case.

Izaya shrugged carelessly. He had seen the boyfriend enter a jewelry shop earlier to purchase an engagement ring for his ornery lover.

 _Really,_ Izaya thought, _what a waste of money._

It was while the man was conversing with the owner of the shop that the woman saw her boyfriend "cheating on her" and decided to annoyingly take action, much to the displeasure of the shoppers around them.

The only thing that made Izaya's thoughts dwell on the couple in the first place was because he considered the possibility of them splitting over an insignificant argument and learning to regret that mistake for the rest of their natural lives, but that in itself was already too predictable to him. And now that he recognized its predictability, he was bored once again.

He was just about to consider heading home, despite the fact that his irritating sisters still existed, until he identified a certain face. In that moment, his boredom vanished.

Over by the entrance to a fresh produce store stood Amane Kei. Her dark hair was messily braided and pulled into a crown, although her bangs still stuck out from it. The hem of her short-sleeved shirt dress fluttered in the breeze as she leaned down to search through the many grocery bags around her feet. Izaya could practically see the check list she was meticulously marking in her head, watching carefully as her eyes flitted from each bag. A cantaloupe was tucked between her shoes as if it were an ostrich egg, and he couldn't help but laugh at the mental comparison. Then, seemingly satisfied, she picked up her groceries in one swoop, plucked the cantaloupe up from the ground by its netting, and continued on her way.

He saw many things in the next few moments. He saw her shoulders droop as a box of mochi ice cream tipped out of one of the bags. He saw her bend down to pick it up, the toes of her white shoes scuffing against the pavement as she tucked the box back in its rightful place. He also saw that when she bent over, an older man's eyes flicked down shamelessly, while a lecherous grin spread across his cracked and pale face.

Kei had been consistent in her reactions to all of the things he had thrown at her so far (or, in one specific case, that _Shizuo_ had thrown at her). Each time it was the same hardened gaze, the same calm face, the same tense shoulders.

However, those were all in situations where she had a small semblance of control, where she herself could decide the influence she would have on other people. What would happen if he pressed the boundaries? What would she do? What _could_ she do?

Izaya's goals had stayed the same since he first met her. He wanted to see all sides of her, good and bad. To be the one to witness her in every state of emotion, whether it be happy, sad, angry, fearful, kind, or lustful—to see any of those in their full-fledged glory would surely be a treat.

That was what drove him to approach the filthy man who was still eyeing Kei as she stopped at a food stand and bought takoyaki. He gently tapped the man on the shoulder. At the contact, the man seemed to snap out of his creeping gaze, and he turned to glare at the apparently harmless teenager.

"What do you want, kid?"

Izaya noted that his breath stank with cheap alcohol. "You were looking at that girl, right?" He pointed over to Kei, and the man immediately started sweating.

"Look, I don't know what you saw, but it's not what you thought it was—"

Izaya smiled and quickly waved his hand. "No, you misunderstand! See, I'm one of her dear friends, and I thought you should know that she kind of has a thing for older gentlemen such as yourself."

That piqued the man's interest. "Yeah?"

Nodding enthusiastically, Izaya placed a hand on his hip. "Yup, she's a real wild card, that one." Then, he placed a finger on his chin and gave the man a questioning look. "You're not interested in her, are you?"

"Well, I, uh—you see, um—"

Izaya gave him a hearty pat on the back. "No need to be shy, my good man! I was just asking because she's been bombarded the past few weeks with love offers, but she always turns them down. She keeps complaining about how lonely she is, too, like, 'Oh, Tadashi-kun, when will I ever find love?'" He mockingly placed his hands over his heart before turning back to the man. "You know, I think a standup guy like you has a real chance with her!"

"You really think?"

"Totally! Oh, and don't worry about the year gap or anything, not that someone like you would ever worry in the first place. Age is but a number, after all!" Giving the man a hearty slap on the back, Izaya laughed. The stranger chuckled along nervously before tottering off in Kei's direction.

Izaya watched him leave with a smirk. _Let's see how you fare with this, Kei-chan!_

Of course, he would never let the strange man get _too_ frisky. Kei was his and his alone, after all.

* * *

A strange feeling crept into Kei's mind.

Her day had started normally, and there was no explanation for how unsettled she suddenly felt. It was a recognizable anxiety, as if she could sense that someone was watching her from a distance.

She then realized the cause for its familiarity—it was the same feeling she got when she was with Izaya. A mixture of calm and fearful, as if he constantly existed in the few moments before a match was struck, before a glass hit the ground, before a drop of ink stained a piece of paper. Talking with him made her uncomfortable, and she knew why.

Every time he conversed with her, he always tried to do the same thing. He wanted to break her open, to see the inner workings of her mind and fidget with the gears. Izaya, she realized, was the kind of person who only did things that benefitted himself, regardless of whether or not someone else was negatively affected. In fact, sometimes he went the extra mile just to _ensure_ that someone would be negatively affected. He was completely unpredictable, and that made her feel vulnerable.

She despised it.

At the same time, nobody had ever been so interested in the dissection of her character. Actually, nobody really approached her in general. She didn't act like most people, didn't think like most people, didn't live like most people—therefore, to most people, she was unwelcome.

She couldn't decide if she was more curious to see what Izaya's ulterior motive was or more annoyed at how invested he'd become in the intricate details of her personality. Either way, it was creepy.

Distracted by her own thoughts, Kei nearly missed something brush against the back of her neck. Believing it to be Izaya, she whipped around, her hand shooting out and grabbing the wrist of whoever had touched her.

It was not Izaya, that she knew for sure.

The shaking wrist she had in her iron grip belonged to a mangy-looking businessman who seemed to be approaching his forties. White hairs were springing up at his roots, and dead skin was flaking off of his chin, getting caught in the gruff stubble there. Kei immediately released him, her eyes giving him an uneasy once-over.

"I-I'm sorry, sir, I mistook you for someone else," she said, attempting to remain polite in the face of his unsettling grin.

The man smiled wider, exposing yellow teeth, and waved his hand dismissively. "It's alright, I shouldn't have scared the young lady."

Assuming the interaction to be over, Kei gave him a cordial nod and turned away, only to have his hand grip hers and pull her back around. "Excuse me—"

"Why don't you let me make it up to you, beautiful?"

Kei gently tried to tug her hand out of his grip. "No thank you—"

The man seemed to grow frustrated with her response. "Huh? Why not? I thought you liked older men."

Now she was thoroughly confused. "What on earth gave you that idea? I have never met you before in my life."

His fingers tightened around her wrist painfully. "That guy, that friend of yours, he told me that you were desperate to find love! Come on, why don't you just gimme a chance?"

"Friend?" A sudden realization struck her, and Kei's eyes darkened in fury. _That bastard!_ Attempting once more to twist her hand away, she said, "I'm not sure what that 'friend' told you, but I'm not interested—"

At that moment, the disgusting leech threw away any sense of reason. As she tried to turn away, he forcefully yanked her back into his chest. Kei let out a sharp gasp as she felt the bones in her wrist crack.

"Stop playing hard to get!" the man crowed. Surprisingly, despite the raucous scene he was making, no passersby interfered. "A little slut like you just wants to make everyone else feel like they're below you, when actually you're just a _dirty bitch!_ " In one rough movement, the man gripped the front of her dress and pulled her close, puffing his filthy breath on her neck.

Kei's right hand weakly tried to pry his fist away while the other hung uselessly by her side. Her grocery bags lay abandoned at her feet, a few oranges rolling out from them. In the back of her mind, she hoped that the eggs she bought weren't crushed.

If only she could use her other hand—then she wouldn't be in this ridiculous predicament. However, for some strange reason, it wasn't regenerating. She could feel the bones attempt to push themselves together, only to bounce back as if they were being stretched by a rubber band. Something must have been out of place, like a wrench thrown in the works.

 _Wonderful,_ Kei thought, gritting her teeth as the pain looped back around. She shut her eyes as the man's face inched closer and closer, powerless to stop him.

Suddenly, there was a strangled shriek. Kei was jerkily released, and she opened her eyes immediately, looking for the source of the sound.

The repulsive man was huddled on the ground, squealing like an asthmatic pig as blood spurted from his hand. A blade had gone straight through it, its shining surface marked with red streaks.

Panting quietly as she attempted to quell her thundering heartbeat, Kei glanced to where Izaya stood behind him, twirling a pocketknife between his fingers.

"Hey, what was all that? I thought you were interested in little Kei-chan over there!" Izaya grinned sinisterly, staring down at the groveling man with an unnerving gaze.

"Y-You lied to me, you bastard! She fucking rejected me!" the man sputtered, pointing a bloodied finger in her direction.

Izaya shrugged. "What else did you expect? You thought that after you called her a—what was it again?—oh, right, a 'dirty bitch,'" Izaya ground the last part out venomously, pressing the heel of his shoe into the man's injured hand and producing another pathetic whine. "You really thought that she would fall for you?"

The man only replied with a gargled whimper. With a bored sigh, Izaya lifted his foot, and the man scrambled away on all fours, drops of blood trailing behind him. Turning to face Kei's wrathful gaze, he cheerily skipped over and sidled up to her.

"Are you alright, Kei-chan? That guy was a real tool, wasn't he?"

Kei didn't respond, choosing instead to pick up her fallen groceries. Once she had gathered them all, she walked away with an unexpected calm. Izaya's smile did not fall as he trailed behind her, folding his arms behind his back.

"I'm sorry, did I make you mad, Kei-chan?"

No response.

"I saved you so heroically, though! What would have happened if I wasn't there?"

Still no response.

Izaya smirked and lifted his hand, moving to poke her cheek. "You know, Kei-chan's actually pretty cute when she's mad—"

Before he could touch her, Kei's head snapped back, and she fixed him with a cold stare. Izaya's smile only widened.

After a tense moment, Kei let out a deep breath, her body visibly deflating. "I need to go home, Izaya-san. Aki-nee is waiting for me."

"Nonsense, you can stay out a little bit longer!" Izaya said, grabbing her wrist. He instantly noticed her wince at the contact, and his gaze fell to the ugly mark coloring the skin there. Holding her wrist up delicately, he shot her a curious glance. "Shouldn't this have regenerated by now?"

Kei gave him a fed-up look, as if all she wanted to do was escape this conversation. "There is something caught in between that is preventing it." Without a moment's pause, she held her other hand up. "I can fix it myself," she said as she turned away.

However, to her surprise, his grip held firm. Before she could say anything in response, there was a loud crash, and the pressure of his hand was gone. With wide eyes, she looked to where he lay a few meters away from her, a dented vending machine lying next to him. A small crowd had gathered around the scene, and they looked on in awe as loose soda cans rolled between their legs.

Pushing her bangs to the side, Kei gazed at the bakery across the street and met the eyes of Heiwajima Shizuo.

* * *

It was only afternoon, but Shizuo already knew that it was going to be a bad day.

The first thing that happened was he woke up at three-something in the morning and couldn't fall back asleep, which already put him in a shitty mood. To make things even worse, he was so tired that he forgot how tall he was and accidentally hit his head against the door frame on his way out.

All of this culminated into one dark miasma hanging over him, and he wasn't sure he could handle any more bullshit without his temper snapping. (Even on a normal day, he could barely handle any bullshit without his temper snapping.)

That's how he ended up walking to a nearby bakery in the city. He needed something to curb his temper—at least then he would have a marginally bigger buffer in case he saw the flea during the day.

Unfortunately, being a teenager meant that the most he could afford from the bakery was a small piece of coffee cake and a bottle of milk, but it was enough to lift the damper on his mood just a little.

Leaning against a wall outside, Shizuo lit up a cigarette, his thoughts absently traveling to that girl—Amane Kei, wasn't it? She seemed like a nice person, although not very expressive.

Shizuo mentally chastised himself—someone like him wasn't in any position to criticize how emotional another person was. Although, there was definitely something about her that made her stand out from the crowd.

Maybe it was the fact that she was the first person to give him a genuine apology, even though he was the one at fault. Most of the apologies he got were desperate pleas from annoying gang members that realized they were in over their heads.

When she got caught in the crossfire, he certainly didn't expect her to say anything. Actually, he really didn't know what to expect. Usually, girls that came into contact with him were terrified beyond belief, but Kei didn't really seem to care. To be fair, they had gone to the same grade school, but since he hadn't remembered her, he expected she wouldn't remember him, either.

No, that wasn't true. People _always_ knew who he was—he was the crazy guy with superhuman strength and a hair-trigger temper. No one would ever forget him, despite his wishes that they would.

Taking a final drag from his cigarette, Shizuo was just about to leave until a familiar face caught his eye. He had to squint a little to see clearly, but even from that distance he could recognize the girl who had just occupied his thoughts. Mentally debating whether or not he should approach her, he ultimately decided that he shouldn't bother her (as she seemed to have her arms full with grocery shopping) and was about to turn away until another familiar face—one that made his blood boil—entered his peripheral vision.

Without even thinking, his hand shot out and grabbed the nearest throwable object. Feeling his fingers clamp around the corner of a vending machine, his finished cigarette was dropped, its ashes crushed beneath his foot. Two hands, he needed two hands to pull the machine off its hinges and chuck it at that bastard's face!

The crowd immediately scattered once he heaved the large machine above his head, giving him a clear view of his target—and of someone else. The vending machine creaked as he hesitated upon seeing Kei standing in the way, completely unaware of the hurricane standing just a few meters away.

 _Move, goddamnit, just_ ** _move_** _already!_

He watched her walk away, as if trying to avoid something, until that bastard grabbed her wrist—and then he saw the dark bruise coloring her skin.

 _Oh, I get it now._

Without a moment's hesitation, Shizuo reared back and threw the vending machine as hard as he could, the momentum carrying him forward a few steps. The metal box whipped in front of Kei's face, crashing violently against Izaya's body and sending him sprawling to the ground.

After taking a moment to breathe, Shizuo marched forward to where the flea was beginning to pick himself up, ready to pummel his head into the concrete. However, before he could, Kei stepped in front of him, her ever-calm expression suddenly extremely infuriating.

"Get out of my way!"

"Shizuo-san, you should not overexert yourself—"

" _I don't give a damn!_ " he growled, attempting to push past her. Reflexively, Kei held her injured wrist close to her chest, and a sour feeling of guilt began to pool in Shizuo's stomach. His mouth opened, an apology already forming on his tongue, but she cut him off.

"Don't apologize—this was my fault, not his," she said, glancing offhandedly at Izaya, who was watching them with a smirk on his face (even though his shoulder was clearly dislocated).

"Oh, is Kei-chan trying to protect me? How flattering!"

Shizuo snarled and uprooted a stop sign, which only served to stretch Izaya's twisted smile. Backing up a few steps, he gave Kei a small wave before turning tail and running (or, more accurately, limping at a fast pace) in the opposite direction.

"Bye-bye, Kei-chan! It was nice seeing you!" he called, quickly hopping to the left after the sign Shizuo was holding speared into the ground next to him like an Olympian's javelin.

Shizuo immediately lunged forward, about to give chase, until he caught a glance at the pitiful picture Kei was.

Her wrist was bruised and limp, her hair loose from its braid, and the bags she was carrying were tattered—overall, she looked like a mess. Guilt overpowered his primal urge to destroy Izaya, and he silently walked over to her.

"Do you... need to go to the hospital?" he asked, avoiding eye contact.

Her response was almost immediate.

"No," she replied quickly. Noticing his slightly surprised expression, Kei attempted to smooth over her answer. "I'm not sure I have enough money for it."

Sensing her hesitation, Shizuo decided not to push it. He didn't know her that well, anyway.

"I have a friend nearby who can help," he said, turning around and walking away. After he noticed that she wasn't following behind, he glanced over his shoulder and fixed her with a look that was one part confusion and one part annoyance. "What're you standing there for?"

Kei, as if snapping out of a trance, nodded quickly and caught up to him, muttering a small "sorry" in response. However, he didn't continue his stride—instead, he held his hand out. She gave him a curious glance.

"Let me carry your bags," he offered. (Well, the way he said it made it seem more like an order than an offer.)

"It's fine, I can—"

"Just let me do it," he sighed. "I'm not gonna stand by like some asshole while you carry things with a broken wrist."

Kei, understanding that now was _not_ the time to argue, wordlessly passed the bags over to him. He held them all in one hand, and for a fleeting moment she thought about how little those grocery bags weighed to him. To him, they were probably as heavy as silk pillowcases.

As they entered a fancy-looking apartment building, Kei observed Shizuo quietly. His expression was composed, but she could sense an underlying anger simmering beneath the surface. He was probably still mad that Izaya had escaped, and Kei momentarily shared the sentiment. After she had figured out that Izaya was the one who convinced that lunatic to pursue her, her hand itched to slap him for it. In the end, she ruled against it, as he probably expected that from her and would only serve to humiliate her further.

She had layers of self-control ingrained into her brain, her muscles, every fiber of her being.

Shizuo did not.

Kei hadn't known him for that long (well, she knew _of_ him, but she didn't _know_ him), but it didn't take a genius for someone to see that he had a delicate temper—actually, "delicate" would be an understatement. Before meeting Shizuo, Kei never knew the overwhelming velocity a person could have after being punched into the air.

But even though Izaya always described him as a monster, Kei believed she had never met anyone so undeniably _human._

From what she had seen so far, his entire personality only seemed to revolve around raw emotion, and all of his decisions were made in the moment he was presented them. She admired him for that.

She envied him, too.

Shizuo, noticing her shoulders tense up in (what he assumed was) nervousness, tried to reassure her. "Don't worry about anything. Shinra may be an idiot, but he's an idiot you can trust."

Kei blinked up at him in surprise, the fluorescent lights of the elevator making her eyes shine. "Kishitani-san?"

Shizuo gave her a curious glance. _I probably forgot to tell her who it was._ "Yeah."

"Is he a mob doctor?"

Shizuo shrugged. "You said you didn't want to go to a hospital."

Kei couldn't argue with that.

With a quiet ring, the elevator doors opened. Shizuo walked out casually, familiar with the environment due to the many times he visited the pseudo-doctor for his own injuries. Kei was more cautious, though, as the image of an underground doctor put many strange expectations in her mind. At any moment, she thought a yakuza member would burst through the door with three bullets in his chest, screaming curses about extortion and debt.

A few moments after Shizuo rang the doorbell, there was the sound of muffled footsteps, and the door clicked open to reveal... the Black Rider?

Shizuo raised his hand in greeting. "Hey, Celty."

Kei tilted her head to the side. "Cel-ty?"

The woman quickly tapped a message into her PDA, holding it out in front of Kei. [I hope you don't mind me asking, but who are you?]

Suddenly remembering her manners, Kei bowed in front of her. "My name is Amane Kei. I'm sorry for intruding."

The strange woman was in the middle of typing a response when a strong force barreled into her.

"Celty, who is it? You ran to the door so quickly, I thought—" After noticing Shizuo and Kei standing in the doorway, Shinra stood up straight and adjusted his glasses. "Amane-san, what are you doing here?"

Kei gently lifted her wrist. "I injured my wrist, but I didn't want to go to a hospital, so Shizuo-san brought me here." Her eyes were apologetic. "I hope I'm not being a burden—"

Shinra enthusiastically waved her off. "Nonsense, you're not a burden at all!" He quickly ushered the two inside, staying behind as they entered the foyer. However, before he could follow them, Celty tapped his shoulder, displaying a message on her PDA.

[Shinra, does that girl go to your school?]

He gave her a curious glance. "Yeah, she's in the same year as me and Shizuo. Why? Do you know her?"

[No, it's just... there's a strange aura around her. I sensed it when I opened the door.]

"Seriously?"

[Yeah. Would it be rude if I asked her?]

"Maybe it would be better if you talked to her about it in private."

[I guess you're right.]

Celty slid the PDA into her sleeve and walked into the foyer, Shinra closely following behind. Kneeling down in front of Kei, he gently grasped her wrist and gave her an easy-going smile.

"I'm just going to see where it hurts, okay? Tell me if you feel a sore spot."

Kei nodded, watching as he lightly pressed at the bruise on her wrist. When his fingers prodded a certain spot, a spark of pain shot up her arm, and she winced.

Observant as always, Shinra stopped and turned her wrist over in his hand, observing it meticulously. "It looks like your wrist is broken, so I'm going to have to reset it. I'll give you a splint and some medicine that should help with the pain—"

"That will not be necessary."

Shinra paused for a second, shooting her a skeptical look, but he shrugged her comment off nonetheless. After giving her a moment to brace herself, he reset her wrist in one swift motion. Kei grit her teeth at the unpleasant sensation, her fingers curling into the couch cushion as a searing pain took over her arm—and then it was gone.

Shinra gaped at her in surprise as the bruise slowly disappeared, watching Kei's fingers twitch as they regained movement. After stretching her left hand a couple of times, she sighed in relief.

"Thank you, Kishitani-san."

Shinra, who was still lingering in the after-effects of shock, quickly regained his bearings. "D-Don't worry about it, Amane-san."

Noticing his expression of disbelief, she sighed quietly. "I'm sorry if I've startled you."

Celty was quick to type a message as Shinra, overcome with fascination, began to examine Kei's wrist again like a young boy playing with a model train. [Don't worry, it was just a little unexpected. Not that there's anything wrong with that, though!]

Kei's shoulders relaxed noticeably. "That's a relief." Then, she gave them a curt bow before standing up from her seat on the couch. "Thank you for your help, Kishitani-san, but I should be leaving—"

[Wait, before you go!]

She stopped. "What is it?"

There was the sound of clicking buttons, and then the screen was thrust in front of her again. [Don't take this the wrong way, but is it alright if I talked with you a bit?]

Kei held her chin in thought. "I have no problem with talking, but today is a bit inconvenient, and my sister is waiting for me at home..."

[Would another day work for you?]

"I could visit later in the week—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Kei was cut off by a loud noise. Looking toward the source, she saw Shizuo returning from his smoke break on the balcony—funnily enough, her grocery bags were still in his other hand. Kei discreetly hid her (previously) injured wrist as his eyes met hers.

He pinched his burnt cigarette between his fingers. "Is your wrist okay?"

She nodded. "It was only sprained, so it should heal in a few days." Without waiting for a response, she quickly took her bags from his hand and gave the group a parting wave. "I should go, Aki-nee is waiting for me at home. Thank you all for your help."

And with a click of the door, she was gone.

Celty and Shinra shared a glance before both heads turned to look at Shizuo. He side-eyed them in return.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing." Shinra smiled cheekily at his friend. "I was just thinking about how Shizuo-kun has secretly been a big softie all this time—gah!"

Shizuo growled, delivering a swift flick to the underground doctor's forehead (that alone was enough to send him sprawling over the couch). "You got a death wish or something?"

"My sincerest apologies."

Shizuo only huffed and made for the door, leaving Celty to tend to Shinra's bruised forehead (and dignity).

* * *

Akira whistled as she buttered a piece of toast, casting a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. 3:00 PM. _Kei-chan will probably be home soon._

Sticking the piece of toast between her teeth, she grabbed the TV remote and plopped down on the couch, her body sinking into the soft cushions like jelly. The painkillers she had taken a little while earlier were starting to kick in, making her limbs feel like stretchy rubber. She idly picked apart the sentences flashing on the screen—something or other about a double-homicide near the edge of Ikebukuro.

Suddenly, her phone began vibrating, causing Akira to jump slightly. Perhaps the gory tune of the news was putting her slightly on edge.

After clicking the remote's power button, she flipped open her phone and read the screen. _Huh, it's Ayumi._ _Christ, don't tell me she got back together with Ryuuji again..._

Pressing the 'answer' button with a sigh, Akira held the phone up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Aki-chan? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, I can hear you, Ayumi."

"Good. Are you at home right now?"

"Yeah, why? Is there a party I'm missing or something?"

"No, no, not that. Look, I was talking to Ryuu-kun a little while ago—"

Akira pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ayumi, if you're dating him again—"

"No, it's not that."

She sat up, slightly confused. Whenever she teased Ayumi, her friend would usually snap back with an equally sassy retort.

Something was wrong.

"What is it, Ayumi?" Akira pressed, more hurriedly this time.

"Okay, so I was talking to Ryuu—"

"Yes, I know that, but what happened?"

"He said he got a call from one of his friends—Hiro, I think. Apparently, Tetsuo's dad posted bail—"

Akira's breath stopped short. "W-What?"

There was a tense pause.

"Akira, Tetsuo's been released from prison—"

Her heart filled with dread.

"—and he's asking for you."

A lurching sickness pooled in Akira's stomach, and her hand limply dropped to the side. The phone fell to the ground and snapped shut, cutting off Ayumi's worried exclamations. Akira violently kicked it away, as if it were a filthy animal trying to attack her.

Leaping off of the sofa, she sped into the bathroom and fell to her knees, coughing bile into the toilet. Tears dripped down her cheeks as she choked, her sobs mixing with the sound of her retching.

With that one phone call, her peaceful days had come to an end.

* * *

 **And just like that** **—** **BOOM! The backstory has kicked in!**

 **Sorry for the long chapter today. I'm not really proud of this one, mainly because I felt like the last few scenes were just dragging on and on. Or maybe that's just me. Leave your thoughts! I'd love to hear them!**

 **Hopefully I didn't mess up the characterization—Shizuo is surprisingly hard to write for a guy that usually doesn't say that much. Also, please let me know if you like Kei and Akira as characters! I'm really trying to make them seem interesting, so please tell me if you have any constructive criticism for me!**


	4. Politique Of The Underworld

**Sorry for the longer delay with this chapter, I was struggling a bit with how to connect all of the scenes.**

 **Also, thank you so much to all the readers that favorited, followed, and reviewed! It really means a lot, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **(Also, convenient pro-tip that everyone probably knew about already but I only figured out recently, reading fanfics with the DRRR soundtrack makes it so much better!)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the series. I only own my OC.**

* * *

 **Politique Of The Underworld**

* * *

 _"I'm home!" Kei called, closing the door behind her._

 _There was no answer._

 _A curious expression settled on her face, and she poked her head into the kitchen, only to find it empty._

 _"Aki-nee, where are you?"_

 _Just as Kei's hand pushed open the door to Akira's bedroom, her aforementioned sister animatedly bounded out of the room, ruffling Kei's hair playfully._

 _"I'm right here, silly!" she said with a laugh, a cheery smile stretching her cheeks._

 _Kei scrutinized her face for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "What's wrong?" she asked._

 _Akira's smile didn't fade. "Uh, what's_ wrong _is that you haven't handed over that box of mochi ice cream in your bag!" Her hands inched toward the plastic bags in Kei's hands, but Kei grabbed her wrist before she could reach._

 _Staring into her eyes intently, she repeated her question. "Akira, something is wrong. What is it?"_

 _The smile fell from Akira's face, and she pulled her hand from Kei's grasp. "I told you, nothing's wrong. It's just the hangover giving me a headache, that's all!"_

 _"It is 3:30 in the afternoon, Akira."_

 _"Yeah, so?"_

 _"The hangover should have worn off by now."_

 _She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, it hasn't. The headache's still there, and that's all it is, so just drop it," she muttered, despite knowing her attempts were futile. If there was one thing she knew about Kei, it's that she could be as stubborn as a mule—that much was evident now, as her sister continued to press on._

 _"Akira, tell me what happened."_

 _In that moment, Akira was reminded of something else that she knew about herself._

 _She was a terrible older sister._

 _"God, stop asking me! Why couldn't you just drop it in the beginning?" Akira snapped. She knew she was in the wrong, she knew it wholeheartedly, but she just couldn't stop the words from coming out. "There's nothing wrong, okay? So just leave it, and don't bother me again." She stalked back into her bedroom with clenched fists, slamming the door behind her._

 _As she flopped down on her bed, she tried to ignore the hurt she saw in Kei's eyes. She tried to ignore the misplaced anger in her own voice—anger at the fact that she couldn't avoid all of her problems. She tried to ignore the reason why she couldn't confide in her younger sister. She tried to ignore it all, but she couldn't._

 _Pressing her face into a pillow, Akira let silent tears drip down her face. She didn't leave her room for the rest of the day, isolating herself in that empty space with nothing but her fears and her sadness._

 _Meanwhile, Kei stood motionless in front of the door. She hadn't moved from her spot since Akira's biting remarks, and she tried not to get angry as she replayed the words in her head._

 _What had she done wrong?_

 _Why was Akira upset?_

 _Why couldn't she tell her?_

 _Then, after taking a few breaths to collect herself, Kei walked into the kitchen. Setting the bags on the counter, she removed the groceries and began putting them away._

 _At the bottom of the last bag was the box of mochi ice cream. Kei stared at it emotionlessly before haphazardly tossing the box into the freezer. She had suddenly lost her taste for them, but that didn't matter._

 _They were probably melted, anyway._

* * *

The weekend's events bombarded Kei's mind as she walked through the city. Something was going on, something that made Akira upset. Kei had an idea of what it was, but she needed to find more information. She couldn't jump to random conclusions without knowing the full story—but how could she? It was impossible for her to do anything without fully encompassing herself in the situation, which would only get more people involved—people who were completely innocent and had nothing to do with it.

She _could_ go to Izaya... No, that would never happen. The last thing she wanted to do was further imprint herself on Izaya's life, nor did she want him to do the same.

That brought her mind to the topic of Izaya again.

Why did he take every opportunity he could just to bother her? Why was he so hellbent on making her life more difficult? It was becoming annoying, and up until a few days ago, it hadn't involved anyone else—until he baited Shizuo into a fight, which then influenced her visit to Shinra and the Black Rider. Too many people knew of her existence, and she could never undo that.

 _So,_ she thought to herself, _it should not change anything if I search for information, right?_

But then again, Shizuo did not know.

Kei couldn't figure out why her first response to him was to lie. Shinra knew, Celty knew, Izaya knew, so why couldn't she just tell him?

 _No, I did not want to involve him in something that wasn't his problem._

Or was that really the case? Because if it was, she wouldn't have accepted his offer of visiting the underground doctor instead of fixing her wrist herself. She wouldn't have spoken to him or Izaya when she stumbled into their crossfire during the first few days of school. She wouldn't have stepped in front of him after he had torn through the marketplace like a blonde typhoon. In all of those instances, she was doing the exact thing she warned herself against. So why couldn't she tell him the truth?

Deep down in the darkest crevices of her heart, she knew exactly why.

For some reason, every time she considered ignoring him, considered never speaking to him again, considered never joining him on the rooftop with two cans of coffee and patience for all of his rants... she couldn't bring herself to do it.

However, if she ever voluntarily told him about what she truly was and the unnatural ability she was cursed with, that would be a necessary step—for she truly believed that if he ever found out, he would never want to speak to her again.

That's the way it always was—the way it always had been.

Even someone as stoic and solemn as Amane Kei had insecurities, despite never letting them bleed into her daily interactions. There were always the basic concerns that plagued every high school girl, such as whether or not she was pretty enough, smart enough, good enough—same old, same old.

But with the added pressure of her body's strange ability, her insecurities cut deeper, reaching places that most adults would never think about for the duration of their boring, uneventful lives.

Why was she like this? Her family was normal, and not even her sister shared the ability with her. Did something happen to her during development? Was she meant to be this way?

Was she even human?

It was because of these self-conscious thoughts that Kei could never tell him the truth. He was so irrepressibly human to her, and she already believed that she was not normal and could _never_ be normal. If there was even a chance that someone like Shizuo, who also didn't fit into society's norms, might reject the idea of her existence—well, she wasn't aware of it herself, but it would completely destroy her.

And that's why she would never tell him. She enjoyed spending time with him because it gave her life a temporary sense of normalcy, and because she had gotten used to that level of comfort, she didn't want to sacrifice it so quickly—but, in due time, that would have to change.

The ring of the elevator startled Kei from her thoughts, and she quickly collected herself before knocking on the apartment's door. Just as she expected, Celty was waiting for her at the entrance, giving Kei a warm welcome before ushering her inside. Shinra, hearing the door open, poked his head out from the kitchen.

"Ah, Amane-san, you're here! Would you like anything to drink—maybe tea or coffee?"

Polite as always, she replied, "I wouldn't want you to go through any extra trouble—"

Shinra, whose hospitable nature equally opposed Kei's polite one, waved his hand dismissively. "It's fine, we were the ones who asked you to come over in the first place, so it's only fair. Besides," he said as he held up a metal tea kettle, "I've already been heating the water."

"Coffee, then."

"Coming right up!"

As Shinra prepared the drinks like a dutiful butler, Celty lead Kei over to the sitting room and gestured for her to sit.

[Thank you for coming! I'm sorry if it's a little inconvenient.]

"Your concern is unnecessary—it's not inconvenient at all. I had nothing planned today, anyway."

[Oh, that's good.]

A moment passed before Shinra entered the sitting room, balancing a large tray on his forearms. After setting the cups down on matching coasters, he sat down beside Celty, tucking the tray beneath the coffee table.

Kei took a breath, letting out a small sigh. "So, what is it that you wanted to speak with me about?"

Shinra contemplated for a moment. "Well, first off, I'm just curious to know what exactly this ability of yours is. Is that alright?"

Kei nodded, taking a second to think of a response. "I suppose, by basic terms, you could regard me as immortal. Although, that may not be entirely accurate, as I'm sure I will end up dying of old age when the time comes. However, other than that, my body is indestructible, at least from what I've experienced so far. "

Shinra leaned forward, his eyes shining with childlike wonder. "Wow, that's incredible!"

After typing out a message, Celty held her PDA out. [That must've been what I sensed when you came over a few days ago.]

Kei shrugged. "I guess so. Otherwise, I have no idea what else it could have been."

[Is anyone else in your family like you?]

She shook her head. "No, it's just me."

Clapping his hands together, Shinra commented, "You know, Amane-san, you and Shizuo-kun are really two of a kind!"

She tilted her head to the side. "Really?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Oh, this is fantastic! Now I have _two_ friends with superhuman abilities!" Standing up from his seat, he leaned forward with an excited glint in his eyes. "Say, would you be okay with me taking a blood sample or two—"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Kei's shoulders tensed up, and she shrunk back slightly. After seeing this, Celty quickly yanked Shinra back down and flicked him in the head.

[Shinra, you can't just ask someone that out of nowhere!]

The underground doctor gave Kei an apologetic look, rubbing his bruised forehead sheepishly. "Sorry, that was probably a little uncalled for. I'm so used to asking Shizuo-kun the same question, so I didn't really think about how you would react."

Kei waved her hand. "It's alright. I should not be overreacting, anyway, but I suppose I've become more cynical over the years."

"Why's that—?"

"Just a bad experience," was Kei's curt answer, taking a sip from her coffee. Shinra took that as a sign to stop talking (in addition to Celty tightly pinching his arm).

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Celty typed out a message for Kei. [By the way, you're not a supernatural being or something like that, are you?]

At her question, Kei stared down at her cup aimlessly, her fingertip rubbing against the rim. "I... I do not know what I am."

Celty's fingers rapidly tapped at her phone. [Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I hope I didn't insult you!]

"Oh, you didn't insult me at all. It's just that nobody has ever presented me with that question before, but now that you have," Kei said, looking up at the ceiling, "I can't give you an answer." Her head fell back down, and she gazed at the pair with earnest eyes. "Would you call someone human even if they had one thing that every other human did not? If they didn't fit into the mold of what a human is, would it be correct to say that they weren't one at all?"

Shinra's eyes widened slightly, and he held his chin as he pondered the topic. "That's a pretty loaded question, Amane-san," he said with a chuckle, attempting to quell the uneasy atmosphere. After a moment of thinking, he said, "I guess that's one way you could describe it, but if that's really the way you think, wouldn't you be denouncing Shizuo-kun as human as well?"

Kei's eyes snapped to his. "What?"

"Shizuo-kun is probably the only human on earth with the kind of superhuman strength he has, so it would be safe to say that he also doesn't fit into the traditional mold of what a human is," Shinra said matter-of-factly, as if he were casually teaching a lesson instead of answering a deeply philosophical question. "But even so, he's still just as human as anyone else. In fact, I think he's even more so than most people because he totally challenges the limits of what raw human strength is. If that's the case, then I think it would be the same for you, too!"

"I... never thought of it that way." Kei's eyes softened, and a small smile graced her lips. "Thank you."

Both Shinra and Celty were too stunned at the fact that Kei was _actually smiling_ to give an immediate response. Eventually, Celty elbowed him in the ribs, and he snapped out of it.

"No problem, Amane-san!" Then, laughing lightly as he scratched the back of his head, Shinra offhandedly commented, "You know, I guess it makes a lot of sense that you two are dating."

Kei choked on her coffee. " _What?_ "

Shinra looked surprised. "You aren't?"

"No, we _are not._ What on earth gave you that idea?"

"Well, you two are always eating lunch together on the rooftop, so I thought—"

"Wait," Kei stopped him and held her hand up, her cheeks steadily reddening. "How did you know that?"

Shinra shrugged. "I used to be the one to go up there and eat lunch with Shizuo-kun, but then one day you were there instead, so I thought it would be better if I didn't interrupt you guys. My bad, Amane-san!"

Kei looked at him in blatant disbelief before letting out a huff, trying to cover up her embarrassment. "Well, now you know that we _aren't_ dating," she reiterated, attempting to keep her voice from wavering—that would only be more humiliating. After glancing at the clock on the wall, she stood up and smoothed her skirt, picking her bag up from the floor. "I should probably leave, it's getting late."

After walking to the entrance and slipping her shoes on, Kei bowed in front of the two. "Thank you for having me. I hope I answered all of your questions properly."

[Yes, thank you for agreeing—I'm sure it must be a sore subject for you.]

Kei's eyes were reassuring. "Not at all. I am actually grateful that I had the opportunity to talk about it—I feel a lot better now."

[Well, if you ever need someone to listen, you can always come to me!]

Kei responded with a small smile. "Thank you, Celty-san, really. It means a lot."

If Celty could smile, she would. [Anytime!]

Giving the two a small wave, Kei exited the apartment. Just as the door closed behind her, Shinra called out, "By the way, if you ever need a doctor, I'd be happy to help!"

"Right," she called back. "But no blood samples."

"Fine, fine."

* * *

A few minutes later, Kei was standing outside of the apartment building with no idea of where to go. She was at a loss—there were so many things she wanted to do, but she didn't know where to start.

The first thing she needed to do was to figure out what was going on with Akira. Kei was a bit apprehensive, though—getting information meant contacting Akira's group of friends, which also meant traversing the tunnels of underground bars and nightclubs. Too many times had Kei been subjected to the clammy and cramped environments of such places, usually called in by Akira's friends to pick up her sister after she had too much to drink. Every single time was an unpleasant experience, the only thing making it slightly palpable being the nightclub's security staff watching her back. Suddenly, one face popped into her head.

 _Maybe he knows something._

It was this thought crossing Kei's mind that propelled her legs forward in the direction of the Ayakashi nightclub. She knew she would get in—the bouncers recognized her face from the many times she had been summoned to collect her inebriated sister before Akira could drink herself to unconsciousness. The neon sign's lights were bright against the warm orange of late afternoon, and Kei couldn't help the feeling of nostalgia that crept under her skin.

She could clearly remember piggy-backing her older sister home, the lights blaring against her back as Akira blew a kiss to her giggling friends. However, she was never bitter toward her sister for her stolen youth. Kei knew more than anyone the kinds of sacrifices Akira made to keep her happy—for her to return the favor was only fair.

 _Except,_ Kei thought bitterly, _nothing I do will ever repay her._

That's why she needed to find out what had happened. She needed to protect her sister, to ultimately repay her for the sacrifices she had made. Kei wanted to prevent something like that from happening ever again. That _incident_ that felt like it was decades ago, when it was really too recent to call history.

Kei wanted to forget it, but forgetting would only be an insult to Akira. She had to remember—the memories kept Kei motivated, filled her with the determination she needed to protect her sister as long as the world kept spinning.

And what, you may ask, did Akira sacrifice for her sister to warrant such consolation? Well, Amane Akira sacrificed her freedom.

She gave up her freedom to the man named Inazuma Tetsuo in exchange for her sister's happiness.

Pushing open the wooden door of the club, Kei gave a polite nod to the two bouncers stationed there. She attempted to weave through the many bodies occupying the space, gingerly pressing herself against the wall as two drunk teenagers wrestled each other on the floor.

Eventually, she ended up leaning against the smooth surface of the bar, trying to keep herself from gagging as a pink-haired girl blew cigarette smoke in her direction. The bartender's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Miss Kei, what brings you here?" he asked.

"Do you know where Hiro-san is? I need to speak with him!" she shouted. With the music so loud, the only way anybody could hear you was if you shouted, screamed, or yelled—one of the main reasons Kei disliked it so much.

The bartender picked up another glass, polishing it as he spoke. "He went out a little while ago to pick up a delivery. He should be back soon."

Kei nodded her head in thanks and shoved her way to the employee's private room. Almost everybody who worked at the club was acquainted with Akira (albeit due to unfortunate circumstances), so, by extension, they all knew who Kei was.

She practically fell into the room as the door swung open, her body roughly pushed forward by the throng of intoxicated partygoers. The only person sitting in the room was a slender woman wearing the tightest black dress in existence, her lips so red they seemed to be painted with blood. Kei recognized her as Ayumi, a failed up-and-coming singer whose only gigs came from rundown bars such as the one she was currently in. She seemed to be in the middle of lighting up a cigarette, pausing after Kei burst into the room.

Her eyes widened in shock. "Kei? What the hell are you doing here?"

Kei's eyes were resolute. "I need to ask you something—"

Before she could, Ayumi was up on her feet and roughly grabbing Kei by the shoulders. "You can't be here right now. You have to leave!"

"What? Why?" She dug her heels in as Ayumi weakly attempted to push her out, leaving skid marks on the floor's white tiles.

"You shouldn't be here, it's not safe—!"

Just as she said that, the door whipped open, a dark mark left on the space where it had been kicked. A tall man wearing a black uniform entered the room, his eyes a surging storm of fury as he looked down at Kei. His hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her forward.

His eyes bore into hers, his expression dark and serious. "Kei, you need to get out of here. **_Now._** "

Kei's eyes widened, her gaze innocently confused. "What's going on?"

"Nothing you need to get involved with. Now leave."

"No, I need to know what's happening."

His shoulders stiffened. "It's none of your business, kid."

Kei stood up straight and gripped Hiro by the collar, tugging him down to meet her hardened gaze. He was unfazed by this, as he seemed to simply let her pull him by his collar without a fight.

"Tell me right now," she said slowly.

Hiro held his hands up. "Look, Kei, I'm trying to protect you—"

"You can keep fooling yourself if it makes you feel better."

At that, he looked away. Kei's expression was disturbingly calm, despite the vicious poison dripping from her words. Ayumi stood by helplessly, her eyes frantically flitting between the two as if anticipating a fight.

Digging her nails deeper into the collar of Hiro's shirt, she continued. "Akira is my sister. I am not going to stand idly by and watch her get hurt again." Kei's voice was almost a whisper as she spoke, but Hiro heard her loud and clear. "Now, tell me exactly what's going on."

Hiro let out a relenting sigh. "...Tetsuo called me a few days ago."

Kei's heart leapt into her throat, but her face remained emotionless.

"His dad posted bail, and he's been released. He's coming back to Ikebukuro, and the rest of the gang's coming with him."

 _What?_

"He's been talking about finding Akira again, and... he's looking for you."

A hollow silence filled the room, punctured only by the drumming base of the club's music. Without a word, Kei limply released Hiro's collar. He rested a hand on her shoulder apologetically, but she did not move.

"I'm sorry, Kei, but there's nothing I can do. You know how powerful he is—"

Before he could say anything else, Kei stormed out of the room, shoved her way through the thick sea of grey bodies, and left Ayakashi, left its neon lights, left its stifling atmosphere.

A flurry of thoughts ran through her mind as she walked through the cold air, tightly wrapping her arms around her body. She realized it was getting dark, and an instinctual unease spread throughout her body. This city wasn't safe anymore—nowhere was safe.

What was this feeling she had? Was it betrayal?

But at who? At what?

Had she been betrayed by Akira? Her own sister, who she vowed to protect, refused to tell her what was happening behind the scenes. Was that what it was?

 _No, it couldn't be._

 _If not, then what was it?_

Had she been betrayed by those people, by Hiro and Ayumi and everyone else that worked under Inazuma Tetsuo? But then the point would stand that she had never trusted them in the first place, so betrayal would not be the appropriate name to give this vile feeling that burned in her heart—it would simply be anger.

Her thoughts muddled together as she walked, her bare skin prickling from the chilled wind. She needed to get home quickly.

She was so entranced in her thoughts that she almost missed the flash of blonde in her peripheral vision. Stopping in her tracks, she turned to gaze behind her.

"Shizuo-san?"

His head turned slightly, and he lifted his hand in greeting after recognizing her. "Oh, hey."

Her eyes traveled to the other boy walking beside him. His dreadlocks were pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, and he gave her a curious glance through blue-rimmed glasses.

"Oh, I'm sorry if I've interrupted something—"

The boy with dreadlocks waved his hands reassuringly. "Nah, don't worry about it. You're a friend of Shizuo's, I'm guessing?"

Before Kei could mentally filter through her many interactions with Shizuo and properly determine the formality of their relationship, he answered for her.

"Yeah."

The other boy gave her a warm smile. "Cool. I'm Tanaka Tom, by the way."

Kei bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement. "Amane Kei. Nice to meet you, Tanaka-san."

Shizuo gave her a curious look, as if he were trying to decode her expression. He sensed that there was something off about her, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "What are you doing out so late?"

Noticing his eyes studying her face, Kei was careful with her response. "I should be asking you the same thing," she replied.

He pointed his thumb at a brightly lit restaurant behind them. "We were just going to Russia Sushi. Do you wanna come with us?"

"We could always use the company," Tom piped in.

Kei responded with a polite, although restrained, smile. "I'm sorry, but I have something I need to do. Maybe another time." She gave the two of them a small wave and walked away, hoping that her eagerness to leave didn't give anything away. Now that she knew what was going on, there was no way she could involve Shizuo in it. She would never forgive herself if something bad happened to him because of her.

Kei heard the jingle of the restaurant's door opening, and then there was quiet once again. Letting out the breath she didn't even know she was holding, she continued her journey home.

As she quickened her pace, she contemplated retroactively accepting their previous offer. At a time like this, she really didn't want to be alone, especially when the dark of night was creeping on the horizon. But it was too late at that point—sushi wasn't really her thing, anyways. She had also heard a little snippet of their conversation after she turned away, the major outlier being, "Dude, she's totally gorgeous! You don't happen to have her number, do you?"

If she went back after hearing that, she knew she wouldn't be able to look either of them in the eye.

Despite the uneasy feeling that followed her all the way back, Kei managed to make it to her front door safely. After entering her house, she could see Akira slumped on the couch with a bowl of potato chips cradled in her lap, a trashy show playing on the TV.

Kei knew for sure what was wrong. The famously headstrong Akira only ever acted like this when she had nowhere else to turn to, distracting herself with material things in an attempt to shoo her problems away.

That explained the constant drinking.

At the noise of the door closing, Akira leapt up from the couch excitedly, a sugary smile plastered on her face. "Kei-chan, you're home!" Noticing her sister rooted to the spot, her smile fell. "Hey, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"We need to talk."

* * *

A cold cup of coffee sat on the table, untouched. Seated in front of it was a broad-shouldered man, his shaved head only exemplifying the roundness of his face. Calling him a fuzzy egg would be an accurate comparison. He nervously wrung his hands together as he waited, and waited, and waited. Dead skin flaked from the fresh scar over his nose, and he roughly picked at it.

It was nearly midnight, and the diner was empty. Although, it would be safe to assume that most 24/7 diners that sat on the edge of the Red Light District were not very popular. Despite this, another customer entered the sleepy restaurant. He sat in front of the shaky man, his coat brushing against the seat's torn leather.

A waitress with a body of skin and bones placed a matching cup of coffee in front of the newcomer, and then she left. The stranger took a sip from the cup, promptly made a face, and then set it back down on its coaster.

"That coffee tastes god-awful," he said with a chuckle. "Well, what can you expect from a diner as rundown as this one?" His eyes narrowed at the fidgeting man seated across from him. "Right, Tetsuo-san?"

Tetsuo had a dissatisfied expression. "Look, I don't like to have my time wasted. I didn't call you here so we could talk about the semantics of shitty coffee."

Izaya smirked. "While that may be true, I was the one who complied with your request, so I'm really the one who gets to decide, aren't I?"

"I'm the one paying for this goddamn information, Orihara."

"Fair enough." Izaya leaned forward on his elbows. "So, what does the great Inazuma Tetsuo need from someone like me?"

Tetsuo scratched at the stubble on his chin. "Do you know someone named Amane Akira?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Well, she has a younger sister—"

Izaya's smile widened.

"—named Kei."

Resting his back against the musty seat, Izaya drummed his fingers against the table. "What information are you requesting, Tetsuo-san?"

"Everything."

Izaya's smile fell. "Hm?"

Tetsuo's eyes were cold with conviction. "The most I would need is the address—once I get that, everything else will be easy to find. But, if you could, I'd like to know everything about them. Both of them." He tossed a yellow envelope on the table that was positively fattened with money. "This should be enough."

Izaya sighed tiredly. "That's a tall order, Tetsuo-san. May I ask why you need that much information?"

His question seemed to fly right over Tetsuo's head, although he still received an answer.

"All I'm doing is what needs to be done. I'll show that damn bastard, I'll show him that I'm not a goddamn deadbeat!" He began to scratch at his head manically, as if he were trying to physically claw his thoughts out of his mind. "Steal his money, I'm gonna steal his fucking money and his fucking job and I'm gonna be rich! Filthy rich, you hear me?"

Izaya laughed. Prison had surely done a number on his mental health. "Good luck with that, Tetsuo-san." With deft fingers, he swiped the fat envelope from the table, tucking it inside his jacket. "I'll call you as soon as I get any information. Have a good night." Just before the door closed behind him, Izaya poked his head back in and added, "Oh, by the way, you shouldn't pick at your scabs. They'll get infected that way, and that certainly won't do you any more favors."

The door closed behind him, and Izaya cheerily skipped along the sidewalk, twirling the envelope between his fingers. This just might be the most interesting job he's gotten yet. He would be careful to relish in each moment of it—it was the perfect opportunity to observe Kei in all her glory, and he would not waste a second of it.

As he pranced along, Izaya thought back on the character that was Inazuma Tetsuo and began to laugh hysterically. Now _that_ was a guy who had definitely lost his marbles.

Unbeknownst to the man himself, Izaya knew quite a lot about him. Some might call it unfair, but he called it a smart business practice.

Inazuma Tetsuo, son of Inazuma Kotaro, the CEO of Inazuma Cleaning Supplies—an institution known for recently investing in the newly-founded Yodogiri Shining Corporation.

It was an abusive household, to be sure.

Thus, that unhealthy environment pushed the already-teetering Inazuma Tetsuo over the edge.

Desperate to gain approval, he planned an unauthorized capture of one of the company's prime targets. As for _why,_ that is another story for another day.

After being thrown in jail for a spell when found guilty of domestic abuse (which was another long story), his father found out about his plan and decided to pursue the target himself in hopes of grappling for social power.

Filled with hateful competitiveness, Inazuma Tetsuo illegally paid his bail under his father's name and reentered Ikebukuro to finish what he started.

Izaya couldn't think of anything more _fun._

* * *

 **Uh-oh, the plot thickens!**

 **I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing or anything—I kinda felt like my writing was lacking a little bit, but tell me what you think!**

 **Of course, if you have any questions or concerns, don't hesitate to leave a review or a PM!**

 **Thank you for reading!**


	5. Justice Blooming Out Of Season

**I was originally planning to wait to post this chapter until I had finished writing the next one, but that might take me a while, so here you go!**

 **As always, thank you all so much for reviewing, favoriting, and following!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the series. I only own my OC.**

* * *

 **Justice Blooming Out Of Season**

* * *

"We need to talk."

A weighted pause filled the space between them, as if they were two American cowboys in the seconds before a standoff. At any moment, one of them would draw a silver gun from their hip and fire.

Had the air always been this stifling?

After another moment, Akira let out a casual laugh, cringing when her voice involuntarily cracked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I said."

"But there's nothing to talk about—"

"Do not lie to me, Akira."

Akira's breath seized in her throat, any excuse that she could have come up with dissipating like spun sugar on her tongue. This wasn't the Kei she knew. The Kei she knew was calm and collected. She liked sweets and hated vegetables, and despite running away from her hugs, Akira knew that her sister loved her dearly.

The Kei that she knew was not standing in front of her.

The Kei that was standing in front of her had eyes clouded with anger, eyes that peered down at her in harsh disappointment.

Why did it hurt so much now?

"Kei-chan..."

"I don't want to hear any more excuses. Tell me what's going on." Then, as if reading Akira's mind, she added, "And don't try to avoid the subject—I will know if you're lying."

There it was again—that feeling of frustration that accompanied a time of human weakness. It began frothing and bubbling in Akira's chest, and no matter how hard she pressed and pressed and pressed, she could not stifle it. It was about as futile as pushing a lid on top of a seething pot—you might be able to suppress it for a little bit, but all that would do is make the unavoidable eruption worse.

"Why are you getting involved in something that isn't your problem?" Akira snapped, her anger beginning to tear at the seams. "You always try to fix everything, but that's not your responsibility! Why can't you just stay out of things—"

" _This is just as much your problem as it is mine!_ "

Akira recoiled instantly as Kei's words whipped at her, her eyes wide with shock.

Kei _never_ raised her voice. Kei was always the calm one, the peaceful one, the... the responsible one.

After noticing Akira's frightened expression, Kei sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry, I should not have raised my voice. But, Akira," she continued, fixing her sister with a stern look, "you can't do everything by yourself. It will only end in more suffering if you try."

At her words, all the bottled up tension and anger and frustration seemed to melt out of Akira, leaving nothing but sadness in her shell of a body, and she limply fell to her knees on the floor. The large shirt she was wearing drooped around her shoulders, further completing her personified look of defeat. "I... I only wanted to protect you," she mumbled quietly, her eyes blank.

Kei silently approached her sister's defeated form, kneeling down in front of her and gently grasping her shoulders. After Akira's chin sluggishly jerked up, Kei spoke.

"You have already done your best to protect me," she said softly. "Now it's my job to protect you."

"But you might get hurt—!"

"That's not important," Kei interrupted, her expression uncharacteristically soft. "Besides, you were the one who got hurt when you tried to help me—it wouldn't be fair if I didn't return the favor."

Akira meekly drew her arms close to her chest as her body trembled, the weight of her words finally sinking in. Despite the small tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, she let out a short laugh. Looking up at Kei with a wry smile, she said, "Since when have you been so grown-up?"

"Since I had you as a sister."

Silence settled between them once again, but it was more calming than suffocating this time, like the peaceful serenity that came after a rainstorm, when all that was left was the dripping leaves and the grey clouds speared with sunlight.

Finally, Akira collected herself and stood up, gingerly wiping at her eyes. "So, what should we do?" she asked, her words connected by a long sigh.

Kei crossed her arms over her chest as she thought. "I'm certain Tetsuo is planning something already. You shouldn't go back to Ayakashi—it's not safe anymore."

"But—!"

"No buts."

Akira sighed, her shoulders wilting. "Fine... what about Hiro?"

"What about him?"

"I could call him and ask him—"

Kei shook her head. "Hiro can't help us. He is part of Tetsuo's sphere of influence—getting involved with him will only turn out badly."

"I guess—how about Mom and Dad?"

"Mom and Dad are overseas right now, they won't be able to do anything."

"Yeah, you're right. It might be better not to worry them, anyway."

"Also, no more late-night escapades."

"Yeah, yeah."

"And no more runs to the liquor store. I'll let you keep what you already have, but once that's used up, you can't buy any more."

"Why don't you just kill me now?"

Kei shot her a piercing glare. "Akira," she muttered warningly.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! Jeez, you can be really scary when you want to be!"

"I'm not taking any chances this time," Kei replied, her eyes suddenly morose. "I don't want you to get hurt again."

Akira glanced at her sister with slight surprise before an easy-going smile stretched her face, and she wrapped an arm around Kei's shoulders. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

Kei gave Akira a withered look, as if her sister's gooey affection was physically unbearable. "Stop."

"Actually, little Kei-chan is probably the purest person in the universe!"

" _Stop._ "

Giggling lightly, Akira finally relented, releasing her sister's shoulders and twirling over to the kitchen stove. Kei shot her a questioning glance as she set a pan on the heating stovetop and began pulling assorted items from the refrigerator.

"What are you doing?"

"Making dinner, obviously."

"Why?"

A genuine smile, the first one in a long time, traced over Akira's features. "If my little sister is going so far just to make me happy, she deserves a good dinner."

As Akira cracked two eggs in one hand and dropped them into the pan, Kei sighed tiredly and slumped onto the couch.

"You always say such strange things."

* * *

The rest of the week had been a bit of a blur to Kei.

Most of it just constituted her and Akira proceeding with their daily lives, albeit with proportionally more caution. Neither of them walked home alone anymore, for one thing. They also had to spend an entire day latching all the windows and fixing the locks on the doors, which resulted in two pairs of sore hands full of wooden splinters and an hour of painful plucking that was, at best, an inconvenience.

And, suspiciously, Izaya hadn't been bothering either of them that much, aside from the occasional morning greeting and the like (which they tended to ignore, anyway).

Kei knew that his absence meant that he was plotting something beneath the surface, but at the time, she couldn't find it in herself to care. She existed in a state of permanent bliss, and nothing could bring her out of it.

However, good things can't last forever. In time, honeyed fruit will fester from its tree, berries will rot, and sugared cakes will mold, leaving behind the saturated spoils that were once sweet.

It was the beginning of the next week when Kei's newfound peace and quiet began to decay.

Over the past few months, the school's rooftop had become a regular escape for her, as the only things that existed up there were the sky, the clouds, and Shizuo.

She had actually stuck with her "coffee for rent" idea, despite the fact that Shizuo repeatedly reminded her that it wasn't necessary. (She noticed he never complained, though—most likely because he was getting a free drink.)

Those days were peaceful. Kei would toss a can of coffee (always sweetened, as neither of them could tolerate the bitterness of regular coffee) over to him, patch up any small cuts or bruises that he had, and then spend the rest of the time in comfortable silence, occasionally making idle conversation. Neither of them were very chatty people—the longest discussion they had was a debate over whether chocolate or vanilla was the superior flavor. (That argument was never really settled, as both parties had passionate claims about the semantics of sweets.)

Life was normal.

Sometimes, there would be small incidents. Shizuo, being Shizuo, was continuously dealt a bad hand in the form of waning gangs that attempted to gain social footing by jumping him on school grounds. On those days, Kei sat on the rooftop by herself and waited, and approximately 15 minutes later, Shizuo would kick open the door and slump next to her, sporting rumpled clothes and minor injuries.

That pushed her into the habit of constantly carrying around bandages, antiseptic, and medical plasters.

Her presence was calming to Shizuo, too. He never verbally admitted it, lest Shinra get the wrong idea and try to play matchmaker, but it always relaxed him to see her waiting there after a particularly irritating fight. When he sat down next to her, there was no judgement, no anger, no disappointment—there were only medical plasters, a still-warm can of coffee, and her tranquil presence.

In that small pocket of time and space, he never felt like a monster or an outcast—he just felt like a regular teenager having lunch with a friend and talking about unimportant things.

But one day, he was not there—and he wouldn't appear for the rest of the lunch period.

* * *

Shizuo had already been through three fights that day, and his patience was wearing thin—well, even thinner than normal. Like comparing a pancake to a crêpe.

Or maybe he was just getting hungry. It was almost lunch, after all.

Just as he passed the school's courtyard, someone (or multiple someones) annoyingly obstructed his path.

"Hey, are you that Heiwajima Shizuo guy?"

"Looks like a little bitch to me!"

Shizuo could feel his temper coiling, pulling tighter and tighter, but he tried to curb it to the best of his ability. If he got into another scuffle, then it'd be the fifth time that week that he kept Kei waiting.

"Yo, dip-shit, why don't you fucking look at the people talking to you?"

If only the strength of his resolve matched the strength of his body.

Taking his deadly silence as a sign of surrender, the ringleader of the gang let out a snarky laugh, gesturing for his buddies to surround Shizuo. Then, he exaggeratedly swaggered up to the taller boy, bumping the baseball bat that he had painstakingly decorated with iron nails against his right shoulder.

"The hell are you just standin' there for, punk?!"

He roughly poked the tip of the bat at Shizuo's chest, guffawing loudly after no reaction came from his opponent. The circle surrounding Shizuo tittered along with their leader, and they started to close in on him like a pack of hungry hyenas.

"You know, if I wasn't in such a bad mood, I might've just ignored you," Shizuo muttered.

The ringleader sniffed and jerked his chin up. "Huh, what'd you say to me? You fuckin' puss—"

Before he could finish the rest of his clearly Shakespearean insult, Shizuo had roughly grabbed him by the leg and thrown him into the sky, where he disappeared as a tiny speck in the heavens. Several seconds later, he landed on the ground a few meters away with a definitive crunching sound. It would be a lucky break for him if he escaped with just a shattered tailbone.

There's always a moment after one witnesses such inhuman feats where they feel like they need a minute to fully comprehend what had just occurred. That such moment traversed through the group, as the thugs were still reeling from the mental impact of watching their leader get thrown in the air as if he were nothing more than a chewed-up rag doll.

It was after one stationary minute that the rest of the gang reacted accordingly after spectating such a violent scene—"accordingly" meaning they suddenly got their daily doses of testosterone all at once and decided that _now_ was when they needed to fuck this bastard up.

"You fucking psycho!"

"Son of a bitch, we'll kill you!"

Shizuo's chest heaved as the familiar adrenaline that accompanied his violent outbursts began bubbling up, his anger practically steaming off of him in waves. One delinquent foolishly took this as a chance to charge, and he ran headfirst toward Shizuo, his metal crowbar raised up and ready to attack.

Immediately, Shizuo's hand shot out, wrenched the crowbar into a disproportionate metal pretzel, and yanked the guy toward his waiting fist. With a crack and a spurt of blood, the man was sent flying over the courtyard and into the bushes, projecting a puff of leaves into the air.

An unsettling silence befell the atmosphere, the group of gang members too stunned and too terrified to move. Shizuo slowly walked over to where the school's flagpole stood and wrapped his hand around its base. Then, letting out a tremendous roar, he roughly jerked his arm upward and uprooted the metal pole, the stone beneath it cracking and splintering from the sudden pull.

As if a switch had been flipped, the pack rushed him all at once.

One ran forward, brandishing a knife as he attempted to ambush Shizuo from behind. With a ferocious yell, Shizuo swung the pole around, catching the guy directly in the gut and sweeping out several others at the same time.

Another jumped in the air in an attempt to pounce on Shizuo's back. Shizuo tucked the pole under his arm and spun backward, his fist colliding with the idiot's face. Blood streamed from his nose, and a few golden teeth popped out on his way down.

Another had been struck so hard he went airborne. Shizuo tossed the flagpole upward, smacking the makeshift human baseball out of the air and into a nearby car on the opposite street.

" ** _WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE, HUUUH?!_** "

Soon, his monstrous rage had completely engulfed him. Any thought of Kei waiting for him on the roof vanished in an instant, the only words flashing through his head being violent exclamations.

They kept coming, more and more and more and more, as if for each thug he beat down, four others would appear in his place.

And then, all of a sudden, it was over. The bottom end of the flagpole banged against the ground, a tall outlier amongst the unconscious bodies that littered the ground.

Shizuo flicked his wrist to the side, splashing the blood on his knuckles against the stone pathway. As he panted from the ebbing waves of the adrenaline rush, his previous thoughts finally caught up with him.

 _Damn it, not again._

He absently turned his head upward, gazing at the fence surrounding the rooftop.

"Hey, do you go to Raijin?"

Shizuo violently brandished his makeshift weapon in front of him as he faced the direction of the foreign voice, his features contorted with anger. The person standing in front of him was tall, almost as tall as him, and there was a dark shadow of a beard covering his chin. He quickly held his hands up in surrender.

"Woah, I'm not looking for a fight, I just wanted to ask you something," he said smoothly, his voice somehow rich and gravelly at the same time.

Letting the pole loosen in his grip and standing up straight, Shizuo shot the stranger a guarded look. "Make it quick."

"Do you know someone named Amane Kei?"

Shizuo cautiously brought the pole in front of his body again. "Why do you ask?"

The man shoved his hands in his pockets in an attempt to relax the atmosphere between them. "Sorry, that's a bit of a confidential subject."

Shizuo felt a sudden urge to punch the stranger in the face. "You're the one asking me for an answer."

"You got me there. Fine, all I'll say is she's got some business with us," he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "So, you know her?"

Shaking his head, Shizuo abruptly dropped the flagpole, picked up his abandoned schoolbag, and turned away. "Sorry, guy, but you're gonna have to ask someone else."

The man narrowed his eyes, but his chill tone remained. "That's too bad. Appreciate your cooperation, though."

Shizuo ignored him as he entered the school building and began walking up the stairs. Maybe he should've told that guy the truth—after all, what if he was important to Kei or something? What if something urgent had happened and she was needed?

But then again, the guy looked pretty sketchy to be walking on school grounds in the middle of the day.

 _Whatever,_ he thought to himself as he opened the door to the rooftop. _I'll just ask her about it later._

* * *

Shizuo had not reached the rooftop that day, but Kei was not alone.

She froze in place after pushing the door open, her eyes meeting the sinister gaze of Orihara Izaya.

He grinned at her and waved.

"Yo!"

"Izaya-san..." she trailed off, as if his vision seemed ethereal. "It has been a while since I last saw you."

"Indeed, it has!" he chirped, skipping over to her and tugging her out from the doorway. "Come on, why don't we catch up?"

Kei gently pulled her hand out of his grip. "I'm waiting for someone—"

"Ah, you mean Shizu-chan? He's a little busy right now, so it's just the two of us today!"

 _Busy?_ Just as the thought entered her mind, the sound of groaning metal and a tremendous roar reached her ears, accompanied by a chorus of terrified screams. She narrowed her eyes darkly, eliciting an amused chuckle from Izaya.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she let out a tired sigh, as if she were a babysitter being badgered to look at a toddler's terrible crayon drawing. "What do you want?"

"Ah, Kei-chan, cold as always!" Lazily throwing an arm around her shoulder, Izaya smirked. "Is it so bad for me to want to catch up with my good friend?"

"We are not friends."

"Ouch, how cruel! Are you sure you weren't a delinquent in your past life? That would explain why you enjoy hanging around that monster, wouldn't it?"

As if on cue, another feral growl reverberated in the air, and Kei could just barely see the tip of the school's flagpole as it flew into the sky. A small twinge of worry entered her mind, and it was that feeling that made her brush off Izaya and stalk back to the door.

Just as she put one foot past the threshold, two hands grabbed her, one on each wrist. Her head immediately whipped around, her normally static eyes now alight with annoyance.

Izaya found it disturbingly beautiful, and a smirk appeared on his face.

"What's with the rush, Kei-chan?" A mocking gasp left his mouth. "No way, don't tell me—you're not actually worried for that single-celled beast, are you?"

Kei frowned, and Izaya mentally noted that it was her first show of emotion that he'd encountered. A small part of him was annoyed at the fact that it was the mention of that protozoan freak that evoked such a reaction in the first place—however, that part of his mind was tiny and silent, overpowered by the overwhelming satisfaction he felt in that moment. Now, he had evidence in the form of a mental snapshot that his pursuits were not in vain, that even someone as emotionally restrained as Kei had limits.

And, he realized bitterly, her limit had bleached-blonde hair and was currently wrecking the school's courtyard.

After a minute had passed and the only thing she had done was attempt to pry her wrists away, Izaya decided to poke at the smoldering coals.

"Wait a minute—do you actually _like_ that monster?"

Kei turned away, fearing that her expression would betray her. Izaya could read her too easily if he could see her eyes—but then again, he could tell when she was lying either way.

So, she told him a truth. Not _the_ truth, but a truth nonetheless.

"Shizuo-san is not a monster."

Izaya's mouth formed a small "oh" in fake surprise. "So you're not denying it?"

"You asked me if I liked 'that monster,' but there is no such thing."

Now _this_ was interesting. Without warning, Izaya twisted her arms behind her back, forcing her body to curl against his in a very... _compromising_ position. He leaned forward so that her shoulder blades pressed against his chest, his chin floating centimeters above her left shoulder.

"You're quite selfish, Kei-chan," he said, his voice a chilling whisper. He could feel the restrained shiver that traveled up her spine, a conniving smile on his face. He relished in waiting for her response.

"A statement like that is ironic to hear from someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Yes—someone whose actions are for their own benefit, regardless of how it affects other people." Her voice was unexpectedly even as she spoke, concealing whatever inner thoughts she may have had.

"How hypocritical of you, Kei-chan."

Her throat suddenly became dry, a sour taste filling her mouth. Izaya noticed her silence, and he used it to his advantage.

"You say that I'm selfish because I do things for my own benefit, correct? That definition is quite specific," he said, pressing even closer until his mouth was right next to her ear. "And yet, you fail to recognize that quality in yourself—or maybe it's that you refuse to?"

It was at this point that Kei began to struggle within his grip, her muscles tensing as her attempts only made him pull her closer.

"Let go of me—"

"Ah, how come you only try to escape now? Is it that you want to run away?"

"..."

"Haven't you learned by now that it's impossible to run away from your problems? I mean, I'm sure Akira-san definitely understands that at this point."

Kei's face blanched. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing. Back to what I was saying before—if doing things for your own benefit is selfish, then what would you call what you're doing right now?"

"You're the one who won't let me leave."

"Yes, but have you taken into consideration how that affects me? For all you know, your complete avoidance of me could be horribly hurting my feelings!"

"You don't have any feelings to be hurt."

"Ow, harsh." Izaya swiftly transferred her other wrist to his left hand so that he held both in his iron grip, his other hand moving up and tugging at the gold ribbon Kei had tied into her hair. Izaya absently noted that the tips of her hair just barely brushed her shoulders—she must have gotten a haircut. "Well, what about that single-celled brute? Would you care if he was affected?"

Kei stopped struggling.

Izaya hated talking about that protozoan in any and every situation, but seeing it was advantageous, he swallowed the disgust he felt and continued to prompt her. "I see that the muscle-head still doesn't know about your ability, right?"

A pause. "He hasn't asked."

"Do you want him to?"

Silence.

Izaya smirked. "Why is it that you haven't told him about it?"

Kei, for the first time in her life, floundered for a response. "He... he should not get involved—"

"Involved in what, exactly?"

Realizing her slip-up, Kei snapped her mouth shut. Izaya's smile grew, and he began looping the smooth silk of her ribbon between his fingers.

"You keep making these excuses, trying to put the blame on someone else, when the fact of the matter is," he paused, taking the time to blow cold air next to her ear, "you don't want him to know."

Kei shut her eyes, attempting to block out Izaya's voice, but the feeling of his chest against her back, his fingers tangling her hair, his hand twisting her wrists—they kept reminding her that he was _there,_ that she was _here,_ and that she couldn't run away.

She could never run away.

"You said that he wasn't a monster—what does that make you, then?"

There was a significantly long silence before she responded.

"A human."

Izaya chuckled lowly after sensing the hesitation in her voice. "It seems like you don't even believe that yourself. Let me guess: being around him lets you pretend that you're normal, right?"

Kei's breath caught in her throat as she retorted, "I _am_ normal."

"No, you're not—don't lie to yourself. The thing is, you just want to keep on going like you have been. As long as everything around you remains the same, you can trick yourself into thinking that you're normal. One of the things that must remain the same for that illusion to work is for Shizu-chan to never find out about what you are."

"That's not true—"

"Really, Kei-chan, you've got to stop lying. Anyway, the reason that you don't want him to know is because you don't know what his response will be. For someone who prides herself on reading people, you really don't know him at all, do you?"

Kei couldn't help the twinge she felt at his harsh words. Of course, Izaya noticed this minuscule change in her aura, and his smirk grew tenfold.

"It's this uncertainty in yourself that prevents you from telling him the truth—there's always the possibility of rejection, and because being rejected by someone who is just as unnatural as you would be hitting ultimate rock bottom, it would then raise the question of where you actually fit in, right? Well, I can answer that for you: you don't."

"Stop talking—"

"Now, taking all of this into consideration, let's remember your definition of selfish, hm? You said that someone who only does things for their own benefit is 'selfish.' So what does that make you, Kei-chan?" Kei began fighting more intently now, but it was fruitless. Despite his frame, Izaya was much stronger than he looked.

"A person who lies about who she really is to another monster that, for some reason, holds the smallest bit of significance, just so she can live a few more days playing 'I'm A Regular Human' even though it'll all come crashing down." Izaya grinned, and Kei could feel it against the back of her neck.

It made her sick.

"If I were you, Kei-chan, I'd call a person like that selfish. So, in the end, we really aren't that different, are we?"

Izaya finally loosened his grip, and Kei immediately darted away from him, her heart thundering with a flurry of emotions. Angry, sad, flustered—Izaya could see them all, mixing together in a rolling cloud that hid behind the waves of her translucent eyes.

Izaya couldn't help the feeling of pride that swelled up in him. He had unearthed another emotion that Kei had buried leagues below her heart: humiliation. The satisfaction overwhelmed him, and he let it out in a fit of laughter.

"Kei-chan, you just get more and more fascinating by the day!"

Kei straightened her shoulders, the power of her cold glare weakened by the clear confusion she felt. "Why do you do this?"

Skipping over, he placed one hand on his hip, while the other gently tilted her chin up.

"Because, I happen to find Kei-chan very interesting," he replied, echoing his words from a time that felt like years ago.

Before Kei could react, perhaps by slapping his hand away or retorting with an icy remark, Izaya strode over to the rooftop's fence, flipped over it, and disappeared.

Kei silently wished he would plummet to the ground, but that would never happen—he had the reflexes of a wildcat (albeit a sociopathic and horribly manipulative wildcat).

She lingered there for a little while longer, her mind still racing over what had just occurred. Her reactions had been slipping under what she quickly realized was a false sense of security.

Her ribbon was gone, too.

A small part of her believed him, believed everything that he had been spouting off. However, another part of her loudly reminded her not to believe anything he said at any time _ever._ The two opposing halves of her mind continued to battle it out, leaving her at a loss of what to do.

What was the point of trying to protect her friends if it didn't matter in the end?

 _No, Izaya was lying._

 _Was he really?_

 _I can't tell either way._

As these thoughts swirled around her mind, a sudden memory came to her. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through the contacts in it until one familiar name reached her eyes.

 **[Celty Sturluson]**

Her thumb floated over the button contemplatively. She didn't want to get a nice person like Celty involved, but at the same time...

 _Well, if you ever need someone to listen, you can always come to me!_

She had said that, right? She would understand her problems, her concerns, her fears...

Celty was someone she could trust.

Just as Kei pressed her finger against the 'call' button, a familiar voice reached her ears.

"Sorry I'm late."

Immediately, Kei snapped her phone shut and slid it back into her bag. "It's fine," she replied as Shizuo approached her. Her eyes quickly scanned over his form, taking note of the small cut on his cheek and the caked blood on his knuckles.

Noticing her eyes studying his bloodied hand, Shizuo waved her off. "It isn't mine."

Kei nodded silently before falling into the usual routine, pulling out disinfectant wipes from her schoolbag. Shizuo fixed her with a slightly concerned glance as he sat down in front of her.

"What's wrong?"

Her movements paused for a tiny millisecond, but it was long enough for Shizuo to notice. "I'm a little tired, that's all," she replied robotically, not looking up at him as she passed a few disinfectant wipes over.

He took them from her wordlessly, beginning to rub the dried blood off of his knuckles. "Oh, by the way, some guy was asking about you."

Kei's shoulder tensed up instantly, all of her previous fears crashing against her in one big wave—no, a tsunami would be more accurate.

"What?"

Shizuo eyed her cautiously before continuing. "Yeah, he was about as tall as me, looked pretty sketchy, and he said you had some business with him." His brows furrowed. "Do you know him?"

She shook her head. "No."

Why was she still lying?

Shizuo gave her one last questioning look before shrugging his shoulders and pulling out a packet of cigarettes, not taking note of the slight tremor in Kei's shoulders.

She quickly collected her thoughts before he could ask any more questions and popped the tab off her can of coffee. As long as she had food in her mouth, she could stop the words from falling out.

Was she finally at the point where she could tell him everything?

No, it had only been a random encounter. If she played her cards right, she could still keep Shizuo as far away from the situation as possible, which meant that she could avoid telling him about what she was for as long as necessary.

The coffee tasted bitter on her tongue.

 _I_ _am selfish._

* * *

The breeze ruffled the edges of Izaya's jacket as he stood on the roof of a random building in the city. As he waited for a phone call to come in, he idly flipped through the snippets of his conversation with Kei.

Either he was getting better at reading her, or she was getting sloppier at hiding it.

After he had pried open the floodgates that barred all of her inner thoughts and fears, he noticed that they began to bleed not only into her expressions, but also her words. Each cryptic answer she gave him that day was a delightful puzzle for him to put together.

Shizuo-san is not a monster... _That's what I am._

You're the one who won't let me leave... _I'm using you as an excuse for not fighting back._

He shouldn't get involved... _I don't want him to get hurt._

A human... _I want to be human._

Stop talking... _Stop pointing out the truth._

Izaya could see the hairline cracks beginning to form in her façade—as tiny and imperceptible as they were, he knew they were there. That wouldn't be an issue for long, as he had the nail to drive it in.

However, the nail was a single-celled protozoan that was completely immune to manipulation, despite having the combined IQ of a toaster strudel and a plastic fork—but it was a nail nonetheless.

Now all he needed was the hammer.

As if one cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket. After waiting for a few moments, Izaya flipped it open and held it close to his ear.

"Hello-hello! What do you need, Hiro-san?"

"Look, I'm not sure that we should get involved with the guy you told us to go after."

A smirk appeared on Izaya's face. "And why's that?"

"Well, the guys I paid to rough him up all ended up getting their asses beat. Dude ripped a goddamn _flagpole_ out of the ground."

"I warned you that he was a monster," Izaya said matter-of-factly, picking at his cuticles with a disinterested expression.

"I've learned not to take anything you say at face-value," Hiro retorted coldly. "Anyway, when I asked him if he knew Kei, he just brushed me off and told me to go ask someone else. Pretty sure you might've gotten the wrong guy."

Izaya's face fell, his eyes narrowing at Hiro's answer. "I can assure you that I was not wrong. Besides, someone like you is in no position to counter me, anyway."

Silence came from the other end of the call. Izaya mentally noted that most of the conversations he held that day had involved silence.

He turned away from the edge of the rooftop, gripping the phone a bit tighter. "Would you kindly put Tetsuo-san on the phone?"

"Alright."

There was the sound of muffled murmurs, and then an annoyed grunt came from the phone's speaker.

"The hell do you want, Orihara? I'm busy."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure it's quite harrowing work to prepare the unsolicited selling of one of the corporation's top subjects."

"Drop the smug attitude, or else I'm beating your ass."

Izaya chuckled lightly, unaffected by Tetsuo's sloppy threats. "Someone's ornery today. I just wanted to let you know that you might need to make a change in your plans."

"What do you mean?"

"You see, I've come up with some interesting information today that you might want to hear."

"Okay, spit it out then."

Izaya sighed out his words, as if the conversation itself drained him. "For some reason, Kei wants to get as little people involved as possible in this situation of yours."

"So?"

Izaya pinched the bridge of his nose at how inept his employer could be. "So, she has no one to help her—well, there's Akira, but we both know she isn't going to jump in anytime soon. If you want to ambush her, do it when she's at her most vulnerable. I'm sure no one will come to her rescue."

"What about that Heiwajima guy?"

A sinister smile appeared on Izaya's face. "He's a weakness of hers—nothing for you to worry about."

"Whatever."

The dial tone reached his ears, and a familiar feeling of satisfaction filled Izaya's chest once again. His good karma was sure to run out soon—if he believed in karma, that is.

Now, he had the glass, the nail, and the hammer.

All that was left was the driving force to shatter it.

* * *

 **Ah, so ominous!**

 **I hope that all of the different pieces seem to be coming together, I was a little afraid that it might be confusing.**

 **Hopefully I also did the characters justice, but tell me what you think!**

 **Thank you so much for reading!**


	6. They Danced The Red Waltz

**Oh gosh, this chapter is super long! I started writing it, and then I thought it should be longer, which caused me to end up writing this monster. My condolences go out to those who prefer shorter chapters.**

 **Please review! Reviews are like a writer's lifeblood, and they really help me improve my writing. There's no shame in letting me know what you think!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the series. I only own my OC.**

* * *

 **They Danced The Red Waltz**

* * *

A coward.

For as long as he's known, he's always been a coward.

Weak.

No, that wasn't right. He was strong, arguably stronger than most, but he could never make his own decisions.

Weak-willed. Yeah, that sounded better.

Cowardly and weak-willed. Man, how pathetic could he get?

He was a coward because he would always choose the easy way of life, even when the easy way was disgusting and terrible and horrible. His idiotic philosophy was that it took less work to wade through a mile-long puddle of mud than to walk the extra distance to avoid it.

That was something he always told himself. It was easier than outright admitting his cowardice.

There's that word again... _easier._

The truth is, nothing was made easier. Even if he took the low road at every opportunity, it was never truly "easier." The motions were certainly much simpler, as they clearly outlined his moral ambiguity with lines of black and white—but, to be honest, it never truly defined him in the way he hoped it would.

He wanted his decisions to illustrate his character for him, so that when people knew about what he did and who he hurt and why he did those things, they would outright say, "Yeah, that guy? He's definitely a villain."

It was _easier_ that way—much preferable to digging into his soul himself and figuring out who he really was.

But a villain wouldn't feel remorse, would they?

So what did that make him?

If he claimed to be a good person (which he didn't) while his actions remained morally appalling, would that make him a sort of antihero? Or would he just be some random douchebag who made terrible life choices?

Even now, the opportunity was there for him to end it all. In that moment, he was sitting on one of the bar stools, smoking a cigarette and sipping from a glass of whiskey. Nearby, Tetsuo was slumped on one of the sticky leather sofas, a beer in one hand and a manila folder in the other.

He had a switchblade in his pocket. Tetsuo did not.

He could do it, if he really wanted to. He could become the hero and save everyone.

But then again, someone like Tetsuo didn't need a switchblade to protect himself.

And then again, a coward is always a coward.

The door opened, and several other guys sauntered into the dimly lit room. A few of them greeted Hiro casually with a slap on the back, while others chose to acknowledge their superior in the room.

After the darkened room had filled up with all sorts of unsightly characters, Tetsuo sat up with a grunt and placed his half-empty beer bottle on the pool table in front of him. His cold gaze traveled around the room.

"We're missing some guys," he said. "Where are they?"

His question was met with silence, as everyone was too scared of his possible reaction to speak up. This only frustrated him further.

"None of you know what happened?"

"Hospitalized," a calm voice said. Tetsuo turned to face Hiro, who cast him a side glance in response before puffing out a curl of smoke.

Tetsuo bristled slightly. "What the hell do you mean?"

Hiro took a final drag from his cigarette before snuffing it out on a nearby ashtray. "The guys that I paid to go after Heiwajima all ended up in the hospital." Noticing the vein bulging on Tetsuo's forehead, Hiro continued with, "Don't bother going after the guy—I saw him rip up a flagpole with his bare hands."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious. Besides, he said he doesn't know Kei—there's no point in going after him."

A sinister grin spread across Tetsuo's face. "Oh, really?" With a smug expression, he claimed, "He's a weakness of hers—that's what Orihara told me."

Hiro's eyes widened slightly. "Seriously?"

Tetsuo nodded. "Yeah. But, if what you're saying is true, we'll leave him alone for now. We've got more important matters, anyway."

A sick feeling pooled in Hiro's stomach at the mention of "important matters."

Tetsuo took another sip from his beer before gesturing for the men in the room to come closer. As they circled around the pool table, he opened the thin manila folder and tossed it in front of him, exposing several pictures of two familiar faces that made Hiro's steel chamber of a heart quiver just a bit.

"Since we can't follow them on school grounds, I'm gonna need you guys to do some reconnaissance." A low chuckle came from Tetsuo's throat. "Like spying, but with more violence."

Snickers chorused around the room for a moment before Tetsuo held his hand up. He silently plucked one photo from the folder and held it up in front of the group, as if he were auctioning a priceless antique. It was a school photo of a girl with short hair that tapered around the nape of her neck, her bangs falling over her forehead and framing her face.

"See this chick? She's the monster's older sister. The company doesn't want her, but she's around Kei every moment of every day. She's also my ex, and she's a vindictive bitch."

Another round of laughter, except it was significantly quieter this time, as none of the men in the room fully knew to what extent Tetsuo despised Amane Akira. They didn't know whether their boss' crude insult was the side effect of comical hatred or murderous intent—a thought that was certainly petrifying.

After a tense moment, Tetsuo waved dismissively. "Nah, go ahead and laugh. She's a fucking bitch, no reason to hide it."

One of the guys, who had a prominent tattoo of a sword on his right cheek, leered at the picture Tetsuo held between his fingers. "You gotta admit, she's a fine piece of ass, ain't she?"

Tetsuo sighed. "She'd be better if she wasn't such a goddamn whore."

Another guy elbowed his buddies and jerked his chin toward the photo. "Whore or not, I'd still like to hit that."

Shrugging carelessly, Tetsuo leaned back in his seat and kicked his feet up on the corner of the pool table. "Do whatever the hell you want with her, I don't give a shit."

Hiro lit another cigarette as loud cackles echoed around the room's plaster walls. Anger simmered beneath the surface of his cool complexion with each bout of raucous laughter accompanying every degrading comment—however, he remained a silent onlooker. One wrong word, and his head would be cracked like an egg over the bar's countertop.

He hated the thought as it crossed his mind, and then he subsequently hated his mind, which then made him hate himself. This cycle repeated until Tetsuo finally cleared his throat, signaling to the group that their sexist comedy session was over.

"Anyway," he said with a gruff voice, "I'm gonna need you guys to keep an eye on her—on both of them, actually. I need to find out their usual schedules before I can plan anything."

"So, like, you just want us to follow 'em around and shit?"

Tetsuo nodded with a satisfied expression. "Basically. Also, try to find their home address, too. That'll make things a lot easier."

"Alright, boss."

"Hold it," Hiro interrupted, receiving a wrathful glare from Tetsuo in response.

"What is it this time, Tokunaga?"

Hiro slouched over the countertop and ground his second cigarette into the ashtray, its feeble embers glowing a soft orange before crumbling into ash. "That Heiwajima guy is pretty dangerous—you can't just tail them in broad daylight and expect to get away with it."

This will be his good deed, he thinks—his way of becoming the hero. If he could just persuade Tetsuo with blunt logic that his endeavors were too much of a risk and not enough of a guarantee, then he could stop him.

However, Tetsuo was the kind of person who never acted in the way that people expected him to—like a ball that sunk into the ground instead of bouncing, or a wolf that hissed instead of howled.

"You're right," Tetsuo agreed, much to Hiro's surprise. He stood up from his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, the rusted gears in his mind struggling to turn after years of neglect.

"Alright, then—you guys just try to keep your distance from them, far enough so that they don't notice anything."

Hiro sighed. He should've known better than to expect Tetsuo to listen to reason—a guy with a mind as twisted as his was too far gone already. Trying to placate him was like trying to feed a starved tiger from your bare palm, where the creature's satisfaction would only come with the loss of your own hand.

He didn't want to lose a limb today.

The rest of the impromptu meeting was spent delegating responsibilities out to different groups of members. The whole process seemed egotistical to Hiro, as Tetsuo apparently thought highly of their group and believed that it existed on the same level as organizations like the yakuza, despite its essential composition being made up of runaway gang members and college dropouts that all wanted a bite of the profits—and, somehow, Hiro himself had become deeply entrenched within its gory innards, all because of a well-placed threat to his family that had unknowingly raised a failure of a son.

The older version of him, the one that sat at the bar with an air of melancholy, wanted to travel back in time, to reverse every decision he made after everything went to shit.

However, another part of him wanted to believe that his decisions were warranted. Despite his hatred, Hiro knew Tetsuo's character better than anyone. He had recognized his blooming insanity from their days at Raijin themselves, when Akira was just beginning her first year and the light in Hiro's youthful eyes had yet to be extinguished completely.

He should have stopped Tetsuo when he had the chance, but even then, that was easier said than done. Although their ramshackle organization had been haphazardly thrown together and gave off a cavalier air, it was no less dangerous. In fact, it was that careless quality that made it even more violent than most others.

Tetsuo, although completely mad, was not an idiot. He had chosen specific members with care, scrutinizing every detail of their history—the men that he brought in from other gangs had been kicked out for a reason, and it certainly wasn't because of any paltry debt that they may have owed. (Hiro suspected that the only reason Tetsuo allowed subpar morons to join was for the sole purpose of increasing their numbers.)

There were others like Hiro, too—people whose power, either socially, economically, or physically (or, in some cases, all three) caught the attention of Inazuma Tetsuo, and were subsequently blackmailed or bribed into doing his bidding.

Inazuma Tetsuo, he realized, was the most terrifying kind of careless.

He was like a lit match that had been dropped into a dynamite factory, like a raging bull that had speared the matador on its horns and continued to charge around the stadium.

He would do anything to achieve his goals, no matter how deplorable or violent he needed to be. Yes, he certainly was the most terrifying kind of careless—the kind that had absolutely no morals at all.

Hiro then wondered if it was better that he was one of the few who had been blackmailed, as it gave him a scapegoat for working beneath such a monster of a man.

He decided that it didn't matter in the end, and that he was despicable either way.

In an attempt to alleviate this feeling, Hiro took the time to perform his own small act of rebellion, perhaps as a token of repent. What was that saying? Baby steps, or something like that.

This action came through in the form of lighter fluid splashing over the folder of candid photos left out on the table, accompanied by a burning match to set it ablaze. He didn't like the idea of any more unsightly people getting their hands on them—he figured Akira and Kei wouldn't want that, either.

The orange flames snapped and flickered, its hue matching the color of the outside sky as dusk began to set in amongst the crevices of the city.

By the time Ayakashi began filling up with its booze-binging patrons, Hiro had disappeared, the only evidence of his former presence being three crushed cigarettes left in a clear ashtray.

* * *

Akira jumped slightly as Kei's morning alarm began to ring, its shrill shrieking causing her to accidentally swipe her liquid eyeliner over her eyelid. Muttering a loud curse and a sigh, she frustratedly wiped away the stray mark and started anew, the early morning dregs of sleep making it difficult for her to keep her eyes open.

One perfected cat-eye look later, the younger of the two sisters trudged into their shared bathroom, sleepily rubbing at her eyes with her fist. Even then, she still held the grace of a dove, a quality that Akira often envied (although never enough to warrant any misplaced bitterness).

The two girls went through their regular morning routine with the usual silence, as Kei was never talkative anyway, and Akira's brain needed time to catch up with her in the mornings. After brushing her teeth and splashing her face with cold water, Kei left the bathroom and began dressing herself in her school uniform, while Akira continued to agonize over her makeup's cooperation (or lack thereof).

Such is the life of a teenage girl.

Eventually, Akira had managed to perfectly balance the amount of blush on her cheeks, and she emerged from the bathroom with a victorious smile.

"Time for breakfast!" she declared happily.

Kei, who was sitting at the kitchen table and eating a mealy apple, spared a glance at her sister. "We don't have any more eggs—you ate them all two days ago when you made 'dinner.'"

Akira's shoulders slumped at that. "Oh, right." Without missing a beat, she sprung up again with just as much energy as before, grabbed her schoolbag, snatched Kei by the collar, and dragged her to the door in one quick motion. "Well, in that case, we might as well leave early."

Kei shrugged and tossed her old apple into a nearby wastebasket, which wasn't much of a sacrifice considering how tasteless it was.

It wasn't until the two girls began walking their regular route to school that an uncomfortable feeling crept up Kei's spine. Wasn't there a name for that? For the feeling of being followed?

Kei absently remembered the term "psychic staring effect" from a psychology book she had been reading.

Akira noticed it, too. Although her cheery smile didn't falter, her steps quickened noticeably, forcing Kei to accelerate her pace as well.

After a few minutes had passed, Kei leaned closer to her sister and whispered, "Akira, someone is following us."

Akira gave a quiet response, but her grin remained intact. "Yeah, I know. I can't tell who it is without turning around, though."

That wasn't the only thing—the sidewalk they were on was occupied by other students, many of whom were also on their way to school. Even if they were to turn around, there was no possible way they could pinpoint the exact person, if any, that was the source of this unwelcome feeling.

It took a few more minutes of stress-induced speed-walking that could basically constitute as running, but the gates of Raijin Academy eventually entered their sights.

Before Akira could hurriedly make a break for the entrance, Kei held her arm out in front of her.

Akira looked surprised. "Huh? What's wrong, Kei-chan?"

Kei didn't answer, her eyes narrowing as she listened intently to the footsteps around them. There was the familiar scuffle of shoes from the few students that were running late, but other than that, the street was mostly empty. It should have been, at least.

Drag, step, drag, step, drag, step...

The sound was unfamiliar to Kei, and she turned her head ever so slightly.

Just a few inches behind them stood a scraggly-looking boy. He didn't seem too old—he might've even been a recent high school dropout—but the tattoo of a sword on his right cheek was the dictionary definition of "conspicuous."

She could see that he clutched a plastic bottle filled with clear liquid in his right hand. The putrid stench of chemicals that floated from its opening filled her with a sickening realization.

The boy finally noticed her piercing gaze, and he stumbled back a few steps. "Oh, fu—"

Before he could fully comprehend the situation, Kei had delivered a sharp jab to his right wrist, a loud crack resounding from the impact. The bottle was dropped from his hand, sloshing the liquid inside and spilling it out on the ground.

Kei quickly apprehended the boy, firmly pressing her palm against the back of his head while her other hand tightly gripped his uninjured wrist. She held him at arm's length as he fell to his knees, the motion making it seem like she had lulled him into a gentle sleep rather than break his wrist. Her face remained passive, although her eyes swam with restrained fury, her overshadowing bangs only adding to her chilling glare.

"Who are you?" she demanded in a cold voice.

The boy sputtered as he desperately attempted to twist away from her, which only made Kei tighten her grip further, earning another pathetic whine from him. "L-Look, lady, I'm real sorry, I won't bother you—"

"I asked you a question." Kei pushed her hand against his head harder, causing him to emit a noise akin to that of an alleycat whose tail had just been stepped on.

"I-I was only following o-orders... just lemme go already!"

"Whose orders?"

Akira's voice rung out amongst the boy's begging as she strode over to the dropped bottle. Picking it up between two fingers, she scrutinized it for a moment before turning her gaze to him.

"You said you were following orders. Who gave them to you?"

"I can't tell ya, or else he'll fuckin' kill me!"

A sullen look shadowed Akira's features. "That sounds about right." Then, without warning, she tossed the half-empty bottle in his chest, thoroughly drenching the front of his shirt with the clear liquid.

"The hell'd you do that for?!" he shouted indignantly, forgetting that _he_ was the one who attempted to attack them in the first place.

"Get out, or else I'll choke you with your own chloroform," Akira snapped, her knuckles turning white as she clenched her fists.

The boy paled considerably at her threat. He quickly threw them one last colorful insult before pulling out of Kei's grip. Kei let him go without a struggle, watching him stagger on weak legs before ultimately collapsing on the sidewalk in a theatrical show of irony.

"Are you okay?"

Kei faced her sister's concerned gaze and nodded. "I am fine. You weren't hurt either, were you?"

Akira quickly shook her head back and forth. Kei let out a small sigh of relief before pinching the bridge of her nose and clicking her teeth.

"What was that idiot thinking, ambushing students on school property?"

Akira's brow furrowed. "Maybe he wasn't working for Tetsuo after all?"

"How else would he have known where to find us, then?"

An unsettling silence fell between the two girls as the same thought entered their minds. A scowl fell on Akira's face.

"That bastard..."

Before she could let loose a slew of angry curses, she felt a calming pressure on her shoulder. Turning her head slightly, she saw Kei give her a reprimanding look, although her face remained impassive as always.

"Class has already started," she said, calmly picking up her schoolbag from the ground and tucking it under her arm as she walked in the opposite direction. "We will be late."

Akira watched Kei walk away, making no move to follow. She looked back to where the delinquent collapsed, only to find the sidewalk clear of any unconscious bodies. The image of a peaceful and untouched street set an uneasy feeling in her heart, but she ignored it and jogged over to where Kei stood.

In a few minutes, both girls had resumed their morning classes like normal, although not without their respective teachers demanding an explanation for their tardiness.

Kei, always the practical one, respectfully tailored up a suitable lie to cover up her absence—since she was such a quiet and polite student, her teacher let it slide without argument.

Akira, however, did not have the energy to put up with her own teacher's incessant questioning, so she merely plopped down in her empty seat, laid her head down, and took a nap—a situation that was not unusual to witness for the other seniors in her class.

Their day continued.

* * *

"You _idiot!_ "

Hiro didn't flinch as another loud crack erupted from the scene behind him, calmly lighting up a cigarette as the sound of shattering glass echoed about the room.

"What the fuck do you think 'don't let them notice you' means?!"

Another crash, this time accompanied by a gargled whimper.

"I-I'm sorry, I t-thought you said we c-c-could do whatever we w-wanted with her—"

Hiro sighed tiredly, wisps of smoke curling from his lips. _Really? That's your goddamn excuse?_

"Why in the ever-loving _fuck_ would I say that? Why the fuck did you think it would be a good idea to try and attack her when her goddamn sister, the one we're _actually_ trying to go after, is standing _right fucking next to her!_ "

A loud _whack_ accompanied Tetsuo's crazed screeching. A subsequent crunching sound came from the impact, causing the bloody heap on the floor to writhe in pain like a caged animal. Hiro assumed that both of his legs had to be broken by now, and he felt no remorse in that thought.

"Now everything is _fucked!_ "

 _WHACK!_

"You ruined everything, you piece of shit!"

 _WHACK!_

"We _can't_ do _anything_ without getting _caught_ now!"

 _WHACK, WHACK, WHACK!_

Tetsuo's head whipped around after a force pressed down on his arm, stopping the stained crowbar in his hand from continuing its beating against the bloodied pulp on the floor. His eyes raced around in his sockets like a rabid dog when he saw Hiro standing there, one hand in his pocket and the other firmly gripping his wrist.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Tokunaga?!"

The lit cigarette in his mouth bobbed as he spoke. "I think you've done enough." He offhandedly gestured to the body writhing in an abnormally large pool of its own blood. The tattoo on his face was nearly unrecognizable after being torn to shreds by the sharpened brass knuckles wrapped around Tetsuo's hands.

 _If he's lucky,_ Hiro thinks to himself, _he won't wake up._

Tetsuo snarled, giving the unconscious body one last kick before tossing his weapons in the corner of the room and shoving his hands into his pockets. Hiro waved to the few bodyguards that occupied the room. They nodded in understanding and roughly picked up the body, carting it away to an uncertain location. A trail of blood followed their footsteps.

Tetsuo sunk into one of the chairs in his office, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it. His hands trembled with anger as he held the cigarette to his mouth, his breaths uneven and shaky.

"Call Orihara," he ordered after a moment, his eyes absently traveling to the bloodstain on the stone floor. He then debated whether or not he should clean it up—he ended up deciding against it, as he figured it could be used to intimidate the info broker and prevent him from sneaking around.

Hiro ignored the lump in his throat as he nodded in acknowledgement, pulling his cell out of his right pocket and flipping it open. The phone rang three times before the call was received.

"Hey, Orihara, the boss wants you to get over here. The plan has been compromised, so we need to think of something else." A pause. "Uh-huh. Alright."

Two beers and six cigarettes later, the aforementioned high schooler stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets and a polite smile on his face.

"What can I do for you today?"

Tetsuo scowled. "What the hell are you smilin' for?" After no response came, he sighed and continued with, "Some idiot screwed everything up."

Izaya carelessly glanced down at his feet, watching the blood trickle between his shoes. "It looks to me like you've already got that situation under control, hm?"

Tetsuo growled lightly, half from the anger that was still simmering and half from the fact that Izaya didn't seem to care at all that he was standing on top of a crime scene.

"Well, now we can't go through with our original fucking plan."

Izaya shrugged. "So? What do you want me to do about it?"

"What do I want _you_ to do?" Tetsuo stood up and approached Izaya in two big strides, jabbing a finger in his chest intimidatingly (or, more accurately, in an attempt to be intimidating). "I want you to help us fix this, goddamnit!"

Izaya chuckled, holding his hands up in a careless gesture. "Well, with all due respect, that isn't what you paid me for, Tetsuo-san. You specifically requested for me to provide you with information, and that's exactly what I did." He grinned. "You can't blame me for the inadequacy of your own gang."

Tetsuo huffed, and Izaya could visualize the gears in his head struggling to turn as he attempted to decipher the meaning of his words. Eventually, he seemed to get the picture, and he roughly shoved Izaya back a few centimeters. Then, he sauntered over to his rundown desk and opened a random drawer, pulling out another thick envelope.

"Since you said you can only find information," Tetsuo sneered, smacking the tan envelope against Izaya's chest, "then give me information that can help me. Does that sound good enough for you?"

Izaya idly flipped through the fat stack of money he had been given, a smirk twisting his features. "You know, you can only steal so much money before your father starts getting suspicious, Tetsuo-san."

"Shut up." Tetsuo slumped back into his chair, running a hand through the short bush of hair that was beginning to grow back. He flicked his fingers in Hiro's direction. "Oi, Tokunaga, go call the other guys."

"Why?"

"Change of plans. I ain't waiting any longer."

Hiro paused after flipping open his phone, glancing at his superior and dreading his response. "What do you mean?"

The table jumped as Tetsuo slammed his fist against it, leaving a rather large dent behind. "Goddamnit, don't you get it? Now that they've seen us, we can't go back."

Izaya listened with an unamused expression as Tetsuo's voice began rising. It reminded him all too much of another protozoan during his own monstrous fits of rage.

"We're gonna hit 'em every chance we get! I'm not gonna let this opportunity slip away again, not when I have power now!"

Hiro calmly attempted to defuse the ticking time bomb in the room. "What about Heiwajima? You can't go against a guy like him."

Tetsuo shot up from his seat, knocking his chair over in the process. "Who gives a damn?! He's just one guy, no matter how strong he is. I don't care, I'll kill him if I have to!"

Izaya stifled a laugh at that.

"All that matters is getting our hands on the prize, you hear me? I'll get that monster if it's the last thing I fucking do!"

Hiro stood there motionlessly, watching as his employer's mind began to unravel again. _Shit, what do I do?_

"Well, it seems like you have everything planned out, so I'll take my leave," Izaya chirped, giving Tetsuo a curt wave. He didn't seem to notice, as he was too busy frothing at the mouth.

Tucking the envelope inside his jacket, Izaya couldn't help patting Hiro on the shoulder and adding, "You might want to be more careful, Hiro-san. He looks like he's past the point of reason."

Hiro didn't respond, waiting until Izaya had left before exiting the room and dialing a number on his phone.

"This is Tokunaga. Boss says... boss says to go through with it."

* * *

Kei, in basic terms, was having a terrible week.

The incident that Akira had lovingly dubbed "Tattoo-Face Stalker Episode" seemed to be a catalyst for all of the bad things to come.

First, there was the time when she and Akira were walking home together, and it wasn't long before a group of thugs began tailing them, armed with a copious amount of makeshift weapons. Fortunately, Kei had managed to wave over a nearby traffic cop, and he wasted no time in driving the gang of delinquents away.

She thought that would be the end of it.

Unfortunately, no matter what she did, they were always there, like a patch of mold festering in the corner of the room.

There were the few times where they had decided to get physical, but that usually ended with them getting their asses kicked—however, as weak as they were, their determination was irritatingly durable.

Kei was beginning to feel uneasy; the last time this had happened, they were never this persistent. Something was different, something had changed. The fact that she didn't know what it was further emphasized her suspicions.

Kei had begun to avoid the rooftop as well.

No, not just the rooftop—she was avoiding Shizuo completely.

 _I don't want him to get involved,_ was what she told herself. Any time she gazed at the arching staircase, any time she passed one of the school's vending machines, any time she strolled by the athletic field and heard the groan of metal as Shizuo ripped up the recently-replaced goal posts, she had to remind herself.

 _Keep your distance._

 _He shouldn't know._

 _Don't get other people involved._

It was the perfect lie—just selfless enough to make her feel like she was doing the right thing, while still concealing her deepest fears from plaguing her regular thoughts.

So she walked past the arching staircase, walked past the vending machine, and walked past the athletic field (although not without placing a roll of bandages next to his abandoned schoolbag).

And yet, although she claimed it was better this way, she couldn't help but notice the empty feeling it left behind. If she were any better at deciphering her own emotions, she would've called this cold hollowness "longing."

What a selfish creature she was.

Kei idly sipped from the bowl of soup in front of her, poking the noodles around with her chopsticks. Ever since she stopped frequenting the rooftop, she decided she might as well take advantage of the situation and buy herself lunch, but she realized too late that the beef broth was salty and had way more chunks of cooked radish than she could stomach.

Just as she was about to give up on her lunch and throw it away, a tall shadow loomed over her empty table.

"Hey."

All of the time she had put in to avoid the very subject of her thoughts ended up being for naught, as the one specific voice that she most definitely did _not_ want to hear called out to her.

Kei glanced up briefly, accidentally making eye-contact with Shizuo when she did, a motion that she immediately regretted. Now, she had no choice but to respond.

"Hello," she greeted curtly, as if she hadn't been purposefully avoiding him for days. Then, without a word, she stood up from her seat, returned her tray, and abruptly made her way over to the exit.

"Oi, wait up," Shizuo said, catching up to her in only a few strides. The students sitting at the tables he passed fearfully scooted away from him, but he ignored them. Before Kei could run away again, he reached out and grasped her forearm, his overwhelming strength successfully rooting her in place.

"Why do you keep avoiding me?"

Kei felt a tiny twinge of frustration. She just wanted to be alone, couldn't he see that?

"I am not avoiding you," was her weak response (which meant that she was most definitely avoiding him).

Shizuo narrowed his eyes, easily calling her bluff just by looking at her. Kei wondered how he could be completely oblivious one moment and then incredibly perceptive the next.

"Is there someone bothering you or something? If there is, I'll—"

 _Yes._ "No," she interrupted before he could work himself into a fit. "It's none of your business, anyway."

Kei immediately regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. She hadn't meant to snap at him, and now she'd only made him more suspicious.

However, to her surprise, he didn't seem to take offense at her remark. His expression was impassive as he studied her face, something that Kei found to be more unsettling than if he had exploded with anger instead.

Eventually, he sighed and released her, tucking his hands in his pockets. "You're right, it isn't my business."

Kei folded her arms over her chest uncomfortably and looked away. "No, I was being rude."

Shizuo didn't respond, and an awkward silence fell between them. Kei wished that her atoms would just dissolve into thin air—anything to help her escape from this situation.

After another moment had passed in silence, Shizuo finally spoke up again.

"You like sweets, right?"

Kei, unsure of where the conversation was headed, nodded hesitantly.

"There's a café in town. We could go there after school, if you want."

"Why?"

Shizuo's gaze was unreadable as he responded with, "You seem like you could use a break."

Kei's eyes widened slightly, but a small smile appeared on her face all the while.

"Okay."

* * *

Shizuo wasn't entirely sure what to make of his situation.

Currently, he was seated at a booth covered in brown leather, a plate of chocolate cheesecake in front of him and a bottle of milk next to it. Sitting across from him was Kei, although he could barely see her head from behind the world's largest parfait in existence. He knew she had a sweet tooth, but he hadn't expected it to be on a scale _this_ large _._ The waitress certainly hadn't expected it either, as she had struggled to keep up with Kei after she began listing every possible topping that they had on the menu. (Shizuo ended up having to stop her before she overshot her budget on chocolate-covered strawberries.)

"Are you sure you can eat all that?" he asked incredulously.

Kei's gaze was as serious as that of a soldier preparing for battle.

"Of course. I wouldn't have bought it, otherwise."

Shizuo glanced skeptically at the mountainous parfait one last time before shrugging and taking a swig of milk. Kei scooped a spoonful from the parfait, and Shizuo couldn't hide his amused expression as he watched her eyes practically sparkle when she tasted it. It was pretty entertaining to see someone as stoic as her become so emotional over excessive amounts of whipped cream.

As he took a bite of cheesecake, he wondered why someone like her was even friends with him in the first place. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate her company, but it was like... she just seemed so _normal_ compared to him that he couldn't fathom why she would want to stick around.

He faintly thought back to his memories of elementary school. Most of them were foggy, and a majority of them he tried to block out since they involved him getting angry and destroying school property (something that, even now, he didn't like remembering).

He never really talked to her back then, and he couldn't even recall her name until Shinra had mentioned it out loud.

She wasn't really like the other kids in his class, though—that much he knew. Although she didn't go out of her way to befriend him like Shinra had, whenever she witnessed his bouts of violence, she wasn't part of the crowd that screamed and ran away. However, he hadn't really known of her existence back then, so his thoughts never dwelled on that for more than a second.

Even when she visited him in the hospital a couple times to give him his homework, he still treated her like he used to, despite the fact that she was one of the few people who were ever nice to him.

She probably deserved better.

Shizuo shook away his thoughts and took another bite of cheesecake. He was thinking too much about stupid things. Absently lifting his gaze, he noticed that half of her enormous parfait was gone in the span of only a few minutes. Despite this, she was still eating without any sign of stopping. He then wondered if it was possible that she had a bottomless pit for a stomach.

Just as he was about to comment on her incredibly unhealthy eating habits (which he failed to realize was hypocritical, as he shared those exact same eating habits), a foul stench permeated the air, one that was distinctly recognizable.

Kei, noticing Shizuo's nose wrinkle in disgust, paused in her devouring of the sugary dessert.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

Her voice seemed to snap Shizuo out of his trance, and he shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

Kei nodded silently in acknowledgement, but his sudden reaction set a feeling of unease in her chest as well. The day had been strangely calm, even when she and Shizuo walked into town together.

Surprisingly, nobody attempted to follow her.

Normally, Kei would have chalked that up to the fact that nobody really wanted to get near Shizuo at all, but even then, there were always those few ignorant morons that would try to pick a fight with him.

No such thing happened, either.

For a fearful moment, Kei suspected that Akira might be the one in danger—until she remembered that Akira had texted her earlier, assuring her 'not to worry her adorable face off' and that she would be walking home with a friend (someone named Sharaku, or something along those lines).

So what was it? What made the oasis of gang violence that was Ikebukuro suddenly dry up?

Not wanting to think about it, Kei just assumed that perhaps Tetsuo had decided to lay off his pursuits after realizing they were going nowhere.

It was a good enough excuse for her to resume eating her delicious parfait without worry.

* * *

Some time later, the two teenagers stood on the street corner, watching the silver-backed cars drive by. After Kei had finished her parfait, which didn't take long at all, Shizuo was itching for a smoke, as he had gone without one for so long in consideration of Kei's health. Plus, the overbearing stench in the air was irritating him, and he figured the smell of nicotine would (ironically) clear the air.

Kei stood beside him silently, watching the sky fade to pale orange as the sun began to set. She felt satisfied. For a moment, there were no worries in her mind, as if she had finally reached the peaceful serenity she had been seeking for so long.

In only a second, that peaceful feeling was gone.

"Yo, Kei-chan!"

Kei's shoulders tensed as an arm wrapped around her and firmly turned her around to face its owner.

The cigarette was instantly pinched between Shizuo's fingers. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

Izaya clicked his teeth, pulling Kei closer to him as Shizuo ground the abused cigarette beneath his foot. "Now, now, Shizu-chan, you may want to curb that nasty temper of yours. You wouldn't want to hurt Kei-chan, would you?" Side-eyeing Kei's cold glare, he added, "Although, that's not really possible, anyway."

Shizuo paused for a second, his hand halting in place as he reached for the closest street sign. "What're you talking about?"

Izaya's grin faded momentarily. He really was an idiot.

"Ah, never mind. I should have known better than to expect an animal to understand words."

Shizuo's restraint gave way almost immediately, and he wasted no time in yanking the stop sign out of the ground. "I don't need words to _kick your ass!_ "

Grinning smugly, Izaya suddenly shoved Kei away and pulled out his switchblade, its surface shining as he brandished it in front of him. As he waved the knife back and forth, Kei could see the light shadows mirrored on it.

 _This is a trap...!_

The sickening realization settled in Kei's stomach just as Izaya said, "Well, Shizu-chan, I believe there are more asses to kick than just mine."

Shizuo growled, raising the sign above his head. It was at this moment, when he had straightened up completely, that he finally took notice of the men filling the street, discreetly hidden amongst the usual crowd that felt the need to watch the show.

With a menacing snarl, Shizuo swung the stop sign down with alarming speed. Izaya darted away before it could hit him, and the ground ended up suffering for it, as a small crater formed where Shizuo had struck. Unfortunately, before he could heave it up again, the gang surrounding him started closing in.

Shizuo swiveled around, his eyes searching through the crowd for that irritating pest. In his haste, he almost missed the guy leaping forward with a butterfly knife clutched in his fist.

Almost.

Before the guy's feet could even reach the ground, Shizuo had swung the sign up from beneath him, striking him directly in the gut and sending him flying into a pop idol's billboard.

 _Where's that bastard?!_

His head darted around as he resumed the search for his main target, catching a flash of black and red in his peripheral vision. However, before he could even turn around, another group of guys raced toward him, each of them wildly waving their weapons around as if they were rashers of bacon. Against someone like Shizuo, they were probably just as useless.

"Fuckin' die already, you punk!" one yelled, angling his wooden katana at the back of Shizuo's head. Without even turning around, Shizuo roughly grabbed it, splintering the wood with one squeeze before tossing the guy into a few other attackers.

"You want me to die, huh?!" Shizuo growled menacingly, causing a few of his oncoming attackers to freeze in their places. "If you tell someone to die, then that means you gotta be prepared to die, and since you _already_ want me to die, then I'll say this: _**die!**_ "

Whatever mercy he may have had left burned up instantly, engulfed within the roaring flames of his rage. First, the fleabag-bastard had to go bother him during a goddamn _peaceful outing,_ and now, he was pitting all these random thugs against him when he hadn't done anything at all!

 _Gotta kill him, gotta kill that flea!_

Unfortunately, every time Shizuo managed to forcefully beat down a clear path, the throng of delinquents would only assimilate into another block. Shizuo's raw frustration was beginning to tear at the seams, causing his rage to grow and grow and grow until all he could see was boiling red.

Another rushed at him with a knife, delivering a sharp cut to his chest. As blood began to seep from the wound, the punk laughed hysterically in disbelief.

"Ahaha, I got him! I actually got—"

Before he could brag any more, Shizuo drove his fist into his face, practically drilling him into the asphalt with the force.

In just a matter of seconds, an animalistic instinct took over him in the form of a deadly mantra of, " _Kill, kill, kill, **kill, kill!**_ "

All of his senses had been abandoned, thrown against the pavement along with the bastards that made the mistake of jumping him. By that time, the thought of attacking Izaya had been shoved to the back of his mind, as all he could focus on was beating down every attacker that ran forward.

With one last swing of the stop sign, Shizuo managed to sweep out an entire row of delinquents, scattering them amongst the unearthed chunks of asphalt. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, blood dripping from the open wound on his chest. He didn't miss a beat as his head darted around, frantically searching for the source of all his hatred.

In a matter of moments, he found the devil-incarnate standing in the center of the carnage and grinning deviously.

"Shizu-chan, you really are a monster. The fact that you managed to do all this," he said with a smirk, waving at the numerous bodies on the street, "is very disturbing. You know, I seriously wonder how someone like Kei-chan can even stand you."

" _JUST DIE ALREADY!_ " Shizuo roared as he surged forward, sparks snapping from the stop sign he dragged behind him.

Izaya chuckled darkly as he held his arm up, pointing his switchblade upward. "It's just like how that saying goes—you know, how 'birds of a feather flock together.'" With a flick of his wrist, he sliced a deep, red line into Shizuo's upper arm. "Well, in this case, 'monsters of a feather.'"

Shizuo grit his teeth as blood spurted from the wound, chucking the destroyed stop sign at Izaya before darting forward again.

Izaya ducked out of the way of the flying projectile and tossed a blade back at Shizuo, watching with disgust as it sank into his shoulder only a few millimeters. With every interaction, he was always exposed to something new that further proved how inhuman Shizuo really was.

As the small knife clattered to the ground, Shizuo wasted no time in wrenching a nearby vending machine up from the ground, the screws popping as the metal groaned beneath his force. " _Shut up!_ "

Of course, Izaya never was the type to give in to other people's demands, especially when they came from a hulking monster. "Ne, Shizu-chan, is your brain so dense that you never wondered why Kei survived that fall?"

Shizuo's eyes narrowed suspiciously, his arms wavering as he heaved the vending machine over his head.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Izaya grinned sinisterly. He had him right where he wanted him. "Tell me, Shizu-chan—where is she right now?"

As if on cue, a familiar voice cut into the chaos.

" _Shizuo!_ "

Shizuo turned his head just in time to feel Kei roughly shove him back, watching with a sickening lurch as the knife aimed for his chest sunk into her right eye.

* * *

Kei stood by helplessly as Shizuo chased after Izaya, her heart sinking as the group of gang members began closing in on him.

Was this what a waking nightmare felt like?

Feeling a sudden presence behind her, Kei reflexively swung her leg out, catching two men in the jaw with the back of her heel. Before they could pick themselves up, she ran as fast as she could, following the trail of destruction that Shizuo left behind.

 _I have to stop him!_

How could she have been so foolish? For her to think that just because no one was attacking them meant that she could let her guard down—how stupid could she be?

 _If he gets hurt, it's all my fault._

 _If anyone dies, it's all my fault._

 _It's all my fault._

 _It's all my fault!_

As she ran, Kei took the opportunity to take down as many attackers as she could. She couldn't let herself get injured, or else everything she had been attempting to do would crumble in an instant, like a castle that had been turned into sand. No, her castle had _always_ been made of sand, sloppy and only lasting as long as the wind allowed it to.

This day, she realized, was the cold, harsh wind.

A calloused hand reached forward and gripped her shoulder. Without hesitation, Kei jammed her elbow into her assailant's stomach and moved on.

Another rushed toward her with a homemade ball-and-chain flail wrapped with metal twine. Just as he swung the metal ball over his head, Kei kicked against his collarbone hard enough to crack it.

Her legs were beginning to burn as she ran, but she didn't stop—she couldn't stop.

Unfortunately, the delinquents didn't stop, either.

As she ruthlessly kicked and punched her way through them, the naïveté of her actions filled her mouth with a bitter taste.

How could she have possibly believed that she could take care of it herself? She couldn't do anything—she couldn't even protect her own sister.

 _Useless, useless!_

What was the point in having this power if she couldn't even do one right thing?

 _You're a waste! A waste!_

Suddenly, Kei halted in place, her shoes skidding against the asphalt. A short distance away stood Shizuo, who had wrenched a vending machine up from the ground and was preparing to hurl it at Izaya.

In an instant, Izaya's eyes met hers, and he smiled upon recognizing her look of defeat.

Just as Kei was about to run between them in an attempt to stop them, she noticed one of the injured men staggering to his feet. As he swayed precariously on weak legs, Kei caught the gleam of a throwing knife in his hand. She looked on with dread as he reared his hand back, twisting the blade between his fingers.

In that moment, Kei's legs moved on their own.

" _Shizuo!_ "

With one harsh movement, she knocked him back with her shoulder. Before she could even turn around and react accordingly, the knife sunk into her eye, ripping a pained cry from her throat. Falling to her knees, Kei leaned against one hand while the other clutched her right eye, blood pouring out between her fingers in rivulets.

"Kei—!" Shizuo immediately dropped the vending machine behind him and knelt down beside her. His hands floated above her shoulders, unsure of what to do. For once, his inhuman strength couldn't help him.

A ways away stood Izaya, whose eyes had widened slightly. He hadn't expected for that to happen, and he certainly hadn't planned for it, either. This was a situation that had gone beyond his control, something that very rarely occurred. He disliked the feeling, as it placed a sour damper on his mood for a reason that he could not place. However, he wasted no time in recovering.

"How ironic. Are you hoping that if you try to help her, it will make you seem like less of a beast?"

Shizuo spared a monstrous glare at his nemesis rather than responding in the usual violent way. Izaya couldn't help the irksome disappointment he felt at Shizuo's lack of reaction. Why was it that _now_ he was suddenly concerned for her safety, when before he didn't give a second thought to leaving her in the dust?

Kei lifted her head slightly, her other eye narrowing in a feeble attempt at a glare. Through the red haze, she could just barely make out the outline of a smirk on Izaya's face.

"I... zaya..."

Izaya watched her expression carefully. Her eye—the one that was intact, that is—began to cloud over, shining with pure anguish. Ah, what a sight it would be to see her cry!

"Well, Kei-chan, at least you don't have to lie to him anymore, right? You can finally show your true colors!" Izaya said, chuckling cruelly at his own joke.

At his words, Shizuo fixed her with a puzzled look and hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder.

Kei immediately flinched away from his touch and shoved him back, her hand smearing a bloody print on the front of his shirt. "No, don't touch me—!"

Shizuo recoiled instantly, hurt and concern clearly defined on his features. "Kei...?"

"Don't look at me, please..." she replied, staggering to her feet.

During all the chaos, a large crowd had gathered around them, much to Kei's dismay. There was nowhere for her to run, nowhere for her to hide. No matter where she looked, there were people staring at her, gaping at her, shining their phones at her.

She couldn't pretend to be normal anymore.

With a trembling hand, Kei wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the knife.

Shizuo quickly took ahold of her wrist, stopping her motion. "What the hell are you doing? You need to go to a hospital—"

In the split second before he could react, Kei grit her teeth, brought her other hand up, and forcefully yanked the knife out, splashing her blood against the street in the process.

And then, it happened.

Shizuo's eyes widened in shock as the laceration on her eye began molding itself back together like clay, his grip on her wrist loosening. _What the hell...?_

A chorus of horrified gasps erupted from the crowd around them, punctuated by the clicks and flashes of cameras.

"I-It's a monster!"

"How is that possible, no freaking way!"

"What the hell? That's disgusting!"

After a moment, Kei gingerly pressed her fingertips against her eyelid. Finding it to be completely intact, she fearfully glanced at her surroundings. Her eyes flitted from Izaya's sinister smirk to Shizuo's wide eyes and to the terrified crowd, and she did the only thing she was good at.

She ran.

* * *

 **Oh boy, that was a lot of action! Personally, I think this chapter is when the plot really starts, but that's probably just me.**

 **Sorry about the total overload of words!**

 **Please review, and thank you for reading! (＾▽＾)**

 **(P.S. I hope you guys liked the little reference I put in there in regards to Akira's "friend.")**


	7. The Duality Of Man Surely Is Strange

**Ah, thank you all so much for the favorites, follows, and reviews! It always makes my heart do a little dance when I see them in my inbox, so thank you again! This chapter gets pretty heavy with the metaphors, so I hope you don't roll your eyes too much at my dumb attempts at being poetic, ahaha.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the series. I only own my OC.**

* * *

 **The Duality Of Man Surely Is Strange**

* * *

 _How young is too young, do you think?_

 _Some say that we must spend our lives protecting the innocence of children. They are too inexperienced to know any better, and that makes it the adult's responsibility to ensure their purity is preserved for as long as possible._

 _But why?_

 _What happens when a child is already exposed to the harsh realities of the world? Are they a basket case, then?_

 _What does purity mean, anyway? Is it a quality, or is it a tangible feeling? What defines it?_

 _"Mama?" a tiny voice calls, one that could definitely be labelled as "pure."_

 _"Yes, baby?"_

 _"Is there something wrong with me?" the small girl asks, her eyes focused on the smooth skin on her knee where a deep gash should have been. Five minutes ago while on a leisurely walk with her mother, she had tripped over a stray pebble and fallen to the ground. She thought it would be just like the cartoons that she watched with enraptured eyes every Saturday morning. After she fell, big, fat tears would stream from her comically large eyes until her loving mother stuck a bandaid on her knee and kissed it better, and all would be well._

 _Except she did not cry big, fat tears, and there was no boo-boo on her knee to slap a bandaid on even though she knew that, by the basic laws of nature that even a child could comprehend, there should have been. She had distinctly felt the gravel pebbles that lined the jagged path cut into her skin, but there was no scratch, scab, or even a bruise to prove it had happened._

 _Her mother looked up from her knitting in slight surprise. "Of course not, darling. Why would you think there's something wrong with you?"_

 _The girl stared down at her lap, swinging her small legs back and forth. "Today, when I tripped and fell, I didn't get hurt, remember? Even though I should have." A small lump formed in her throat. "And yesterday, too, when I was at school..."_

 _The knitting needles made a sound as they clicked together. "What happened at school?"_

 _"I fell from the monkey bars, but I didn't get hurt, and then a mean girl called me a freak," the small voice said, as if the words were difficult to pronounce. She finally gazed up at her mother with big, questioning eyes, unmarred by the inner sadness that she felt. "Am I really a freak?"_

 _Her mother sighed, perhaps out of pity, and gently reached forward. With steady fingers, she took her daughter by the hands and lifted her up into her lap. As she began rubbing soothing circles into her child's back, she spoke._

 _"You're not a freak, dear. You're just a little different from the other kids, and there's nothing wrong with that."_

 _"But what about you and Papa and Aki-nee? You're not like me, either."_

 _A tender smile graced the older woman's face as she pat her daughter on the head. "We're all different, Kei-chan, but that's alright. Just know that no matter how many times people may call you bad things, Mama and Papa and Aki-nee will always love you, and that will never change."_

 _The girl seemed satisfied by this answer, and a peaceful solitude filled the air. After a few moments, she spoke up again._

 _"Mama, do you think I'll ever meet someone just like me?"_

 _"No."_

 _The girl seemed taken aback by her mother's blunt answer—taken aback and also slightly hurt. "W-What?"_

 _Seeing the betrayed expression on her daughter's face, she laughed lightly. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Kei-chan. It's true that you'll never meet someone exactly like you, but that's because it's impossible for_ anyone _to meet someone exactly like them."_

 _"What do you mean?"_

 _Her mother smiled, and there was no ill-intent hiding behind the gentle upturn of her lips. "When you grow older, you will see that everyone is very different. Now, you might_ want _to find someone who's exactly the same, but in the end, all that matters is that you find someone who understands you. You'll probably be completely different people, but that's okay. As long as they accept the bad things and love the good things, then you will be happy."_

 _This sentiment seemed a bit inappropriate to say to a child, as the wording was a little too complicated for elementary levels of comprehension, but the young girl understood every sentence spoken in the song-like voice of her mother. Her parents' friends, when they gathered for monthly dinner parties, had always called her "mature for her age," chuckling through the words over a thin glass of clearish-yellowish substance that had a sour smell._

 _The girl buried her face into her mother's shoulder, her small hands tightly clutching slips of her silken blouse. Her mother chuckled softly and began patting her back in a rhythmic pattern, resuming her knitting as she quietly hummed a familiar tune._

 _This was unconditional love._

 _Many years in the future, on a day that she would rather forget, the girl would think back to this interaction and wonder about which she truly preferred._

 _Did she want unconditional love, where the people she cared about loved her completely and absolutely, despite her blinding faults?_

 _Or did she want true understanding, where someone, anyone, took the time to absorb her faults and her graces in turn and fully unravel why, why, why she felt this way?_

 _Which was better for her?_

 _Which was better for them?_

 _Too many questions, not enough answers._

 _Too many questions..._

* * *

Kei's chest heaved as her legs finally came to a stop, a lingering burn making them tremble slightly. She was standing in the middle of an empty crosswalk, a red splotch amongst the plain, white stripes that marked the asphalt.

It was midday, and work shifts were ending.

Soon, cars would be speeding down this very road. Soon, people would fill up the streets of Ikebukuro, maybe on their way to impromptu karaoke with their work buddies, maybe not. Either way, people would be here, and they would see the girl in a high school uniform with the right side of her face painted red with her own blood, and they would wonder how it was possible for her to stain her skin so badly without having any visible injuries.

That was too many people, and—technically—she was still running.

Kei calmly pulled her cellphone from her jacket pocket and flipped it open, staring at it blankly.

 _Make the call,_ her mind shouted to herself. _You have nothing to lose._

The processes of her mind had always been analytical, always asking what she had to gain, what she had to lose. However, the scales were tipped now—but they had always been unbalanced from the beginning, hadn't they?

In an attempt to grasp some semblance of control, her conscience organizes her options again. It pushes all the stones off of the drooping side of the scale while the other cup lays bare. In this situation, there is nothing to gain, and there is also nothing to lose—well, it would be safe to say that she had already lost.

The golden scale sways back and forth, momentarily unsure of its purpose without the added pressure of weight. It was no longer a matter of whether or not her decisions would turn out in her favor—based on the day's disastrous events, Kei had already determined that the universe was definitely _not_ on her side right now.

And so she asks herself, "What do I _want?_ "

She answers her own question as she clicks through the contacts in her phone, stopping at one name.

The phone rings once, twice, three times before it is answered. There is silence from the other side of the call, but Kei knows that someone is listening.

"I am sorry to bother you, but I..." She clutches the phone just a little bit tighter, forcing her next words out through tight lips, as if she cannot bear the vulnerability it will expose within her. "I just... I just need someone to talk to."

No answer came, but Kei understood. She quietly snapped her phone shut and tucked it back into her jacket pocket before she began to walk again, this time with a definite destination in mind. The toes of her shoes dragged along the ground as she walked, further emphasizing her crestfallen demeanor. Her legs were beginning to grow tired, but she knew that she couldn't afford to stop moving. She was still running away, just like she always did—away from him, and _him,_ and herself, too.

Fortunately, the city at that moment held a rare quiet—a quiet that Kei was, for once, actually grateful for. The clear atmosphere allowed her a moment to collect her thoughts, which had previously been an unorganized amalgam of anxiety.

 _This is not the end of the world,_ she told herself. Running from one's own self is an impossible endeavor, and this day finally helped her realize that fact. It was a race that you couldn't win. The best course of action would be to accept your unavoidable loss, recover, and move on from your failure. It was a cruel and difficult process, but that isn't to say that Kei was not already a cruel and difficult person.

That's what she believed, anyway.

As Kei began approaching the long shadow cast by the apartment building that she had become so familiar with, she contemplated whether or not she really needed to talk to anyone after all. She then decided that she had already walked all this way, and it would be a waste of her time if she didn't even do anything.

Ah, yes, analytical as always.

This part of herself was the smooth surface of the water, the part that she allowed people to see, the part that rippled when touched, creating perfect, clear rings—restrained, calming, unaffected.

 _It would be rude if I called and didn't even come,_ she thought to herself as she gazed at the building's ominous entrance. She repeats this phrase, as if attempting to convince herself that she's merely being cordial, that her reciprocative nature is the reason for this impromptu visit. She ignores the emotions that are driving her actions, buried leagues and leagues below the rippling surface of the blue water.

It is in these deep and untouched crevices of her mind where the _id_ festers, thrashing wildly against the tight holds of the _ego_ and the _super-ego_ alike. Here, in this forbidden place, is where Kei conceals her _what,_ her _why,_ and even her _who_ for reasons that she doesn't know herself.

A shiny, black car bumbles by, and the driver momentarily gazes at the spot where someone should have been. They only stop to look for a second, but in that solitary moment, they wonder why there is a splotch of blood on the pavement.

* * *

Celty wasn't quite sure what to make of the sudden phone call. To be fair, she _had_ said that if Kei ever needed someone to listen, she would be there—but even someone as otherworldly as Celty had very human feelings. At that moment, those human feelings were fretting about how cryptic Kei had sounded over the phone.

 _She seemed a little off... I hope she's alright,_ the Dullahan thinks to herself as she watches steam flow from the mouth of the electric teapot. The call had certainly been sudden, but gosh darn herself if she didn't at least try to be hospitable!

The short ring of the doorbell momentarily pulled Celty from her thoughts, and she made her way over to the entrance. Shinra was off in his room studying for an English quiz that he had the next day (because even though he may be a master of anatomy and biology, literature was not his best subject), and since Kei only seemed to want to speak with her, Celty thought it best to leave him to his own devices.

However, upon seeing the state that Kei was in, she immediately rethought her decision.

[What on earth happened to you?!]

The right side of Kei's face was caked in dried blood, some of it staining the white undershirt of her school uniform. Before Celty could fly into a panic and call for Shinra or (even worse) an ambulance, Kei quickly attempted to reassure her to the best of her ability.

"Do not worry, Celty-san, the wound has already healed," she said, her words curt and hurried.

Seeing that she did not want to elaborate, Celty quickly ushered her in, her fingers flying as she hastily typed a response. [But still, the injury must have been pretty bad for you to end up in this state! How did this even happen in the first place?]

Kei didn't answer at first, instead tearing a paper towel from the roll sitting next to the sink and soaking it under the tap before rubbing at the blood on her face—it seemed like she wanted to prolong the inevitability of speaking for as long as possible. But, eventually, the crisp whiteness of the paper towel became stained with maroon, too. Another thing she had ruined.

"I was out in town with Shizuo-san when a group of gang members attempted to fight him," she said, her voice a monotone whisper. "One of them tried to throw a knife at him, so I..."

Kei trailed off quietly, momentarily remembering Shizuo's expression when he saw her. That look of shock, one that she should have been very used to seeing—she didn't know why, but witnessing that same expression on his face hurt much more.

Wordlessly, she brought her hand up to her face, pressing it against her phantom eye. She should never have let her guard down, not when she knew that Izaya was dancing behind the scenes like a morbid circus performer.

She cursed her utter foolishness. If only she had been more careful, she could have avoided this completely...

No, it had been futile from the beginning. All she had been doing was procrastinating the inevitable. She should have recognized that fact—it would have saved everyone a lot more trouble.

But was it so wrong of her to wish for a peaceful and normal life?

Noticing Kei's tense silence, Celty chose her next words a bit more carefully.

[He saw you, didn't he?]

She received an almost imperceptible nod in response as Kei clutched her hands tighter in her lap, while her face gave no inkling as to whatever inner thoughts she may have had in that moment. Celty's hand hesitated over her phone's keypad, her inability to read Kei's blank expression making it difficult for her to formulate any sort of comforting response.

Seeing the hand that held the PDA wilt slightly, Kei slowly stood up and bowed deeply. "I'm sorry, Celty-san. I know that I requested to speak with you, but I see that I have only caused you trouble. I will leave."

Celty's fingers practically flew over her phone as she rushed to write a response before Kei could run away. She quickly stood up and grabbed Kei's shoulder with one hand while the other hastily held up her phone.

[Wait, you don't have to leave! You haven't been causing me any trouble at all!]

More rapid tapping sounds.

[After all, I did say that if you ever needed help, you could come to me. If you want to talk, that's what I'm here for.]

Kei's eyes widened ever so slightly, but her momentary surprise was soon replaced by a sullen look. "I... I cannot bring myself to speak about it, though."

[Well, you're clearly upset about something. Let's start there, okay?]

A tense silence filled the space between them. Celty's hand was still on Kei's shoulders, as if she were taming a wild animal that could dash away at any moment.

She was not very far from the truth.

Eventually, she was able to coax Kei back into her seat without a fuss. Seeing that Kei needed some time to herself to think, Celty busied herself in the kitchen, using the dark shadows that curled around her legs to begin preparing some tea.

When she returned to the living room with a cup of tea and a wet hand towel, Celty could see that Kei's posture had softened slightly, as the sharp shoulders that once stood at attention were now relaxed.

Placing the cup on a cork board coaster, Celty handed the towel to Kei, who took it from her wordlessly. It was after she timidly brought the cup up to her lips that she finally spoke.

"I am afraid."

Celty waited a moment before writing a response.

[Why?]

She looked away, averting her eyes from the yellow, cat-eared helmet that her company wore. "I do not know." Taking another small sip from her tea, she continued.

"When he saw me, he looked so shocked. I cannot even imagine what he must have been thinking." Her hands trembled slightly, clutching the teacup just a bit tighter. "All of the other people, too. They were all staring at me, as if I was some kind of monster..."

[Is that why you're upset? Because all of those people saw you?]

Kei shook her head slowly. "No, it was not that. I have become used to that expression by now. It's just that..." She looked down at her cup, only to see her own darkened eyes mirrored in the swirling tea. "Seeing Shizuo-san look at me the same way... For some reason, it hurt much more."

The words came out short and staggered, as if it pained her to say it aloud. Why was she acting so weak? She should have expected something like this to happen—for her to react in such a volatile way was pathetic.

Celty's hands dropped into her lap, unsure of what to do or say. She knew in her heart that Shizuo was a good person, and the idea that he would be disgusted or horrified by someone like Kei didn't seem plausible at all. After all, if that were the case, then that would only open up more questions about her own friendship with him.

But at the same time, she didn't think it would be appropriate for her to speak for someone in their place. She couldn't read Shizuo's thoughts nor could she predict his actions, so trying to comfort Kei in his stead didn't seem like the right thing to do.

Kei looked so sad, though (well, to be honest, she looked completely normal, but for a person without a face of her own, Celty was fairly good at reading other people's moods), so she couldn't, in good conscience, just let this situation go.

Lifting her hand up, Celty quietly tapped out another message.

[I understand.]

Frowning slightly, Kei shook her head. "I'm sorry, Celty-san, but I surely do not expect you to—"

Before she could continue, Celty calmly dropped her PDA on the seat beside her and brought both of her hands up to her yellow helmet.

Kei's eyes widened ever so slightly, perhaps in awe, as the woman sitting across from her slowly removed her headgear, a plume of black smoke tapering where a head should have been.

 _I don't..._

Tearing her eyes away from the supernatural spectacle, Kei barely registered the message that Celty held out to her.

[I do understand, Amane-san.]

An otherworldly silence fell between them as the two women, who ended up being more alike than they could have imagined, regarded each other with unclouded gazes, seeing the other for what they really were for the first time. After a moment had passed, Kei opened her mouth slightly—perhaps to say something, or maybe just to gasp.

Either way, she would never remember what she had wanted to say in that moment, because her mind went blank at the next words she heard.

"What do you want, Shizuo-kun? I was in the middle of studying!"

The muffled voice came from the other room, its irritated intonation matching what one would expect from a student that had been loudly interrupted in the middle of his dutiful studying.

"Wait, what happened? Well, what are you calling _me_ for?"

Kei immediately tensed up, her fingers gripping the cup so tightly that a hairline crack traveled up its side. _What?_

"Why would I know where she is?" Then, a bit more meekly, "Okay, okay, I'll ask."

A few seconds later, Shinra popped his head into the living room, his hand pressed against the phone's speaker. "Hey, Celty, Amane-san called you, right? You wouldn't happen to know where she—"

In the middle of his sentence, Shinra's eyes finally fell on the person in question, who was currently attempting to send him a mental message through intense eye contact alone.

 _No, don't—!_

Either Shinra couldn't understand pleading eye conversations, or he was just plain stupid, because he merely blinked in the face of Kei's glare and paused for a moment before holding the phone up to his ear again.

"Ah, Shizuo-kun, you're in luck. She's actually here right now, if you want to—hey, wait, Amane-san! Where are you going?"

In the midst of Shinra carelessly blabbing to Shizuo on the phone, Kei's body had fallen limp. The porcelain cup dropped against the cut edges of the coffee table, shattering the painted ceramic into thousands of pastel pieces. Her body seemed to move on its own, forcing her up on her feet and racing to the hallway before anyone could even attempt to stop her.

The loud sound of the door slamming echoed throughout the apartment, interrupted by the increasingly disgruntled voice on the other end of the call.

Even now, she could not stop running.

* * *

Shinra stood at the corner of the biology classroom, eating a packaged rice ball as he idly stared through the window. He watched as Shizuo bat away his assailants with a "do not cross" sign, an explosion of dirt and debris erupting from the athletic field (as well as a couple bodies flying out from the dust plume).

There was some irony in that, although maybe in a different way. Something like, "Do not cross Heiwajima Shizuo!"

But of course, there are always those who disregard street signs and the clear warnings they give. And right now, those people were getting their just deserts for their mistakes.

It had been a few days since Kei had fled from Shinra's apartment (for what reason, he didn't know). Whatever happened, it seemed to be enough to warrant her avoidance of school, as she failed to turn up to class ever since that event. When he tried to ask her sister about it, all Akira had said was that she wasn't feeling well, and that only made him consider if it was even possible for someone like her to get sick at all. His thoughts didn't dwell on that, though.

On a completely unrelated note, Shizuo was even crankier than usual, and the amount of daily fights he went through ended up doubling as a result. (Shinra had estimated this based on the increasing amount of broken scalpels and needles he went through trying to suture his friend's iron-clad skin.)

In addition, Shizuo's evident irritation made it even more of a tightrope walk to talk to him than it already was. Yeah, that seemed like an avid comparison. Wait, actually, it was more like one end of the tightrope was lit on fire while the other end was slowly being whittled down with sandpaper.

Who was the fire, and who was the sandpaper?

Shinra felt his stomach sinking as he realized that he had a fair idea of which was which, although more out of exhaustion than fear or worry with everything happening around him.

 _Is this correlation or causation?_ Shinra thought to himself as Shizuo sent another row of delinquents flying, letting out a tremendous, lion-like roar that echoed around the campus.

Shinra sighed and ate the last bite of his rice ball. If Shizuo kept getting into fights like this, he'd end up running out of scalpels to use.

Just as he crumpled the food wrapper in his hand and prepared to throw it away, a familiar voice came from behind him.

"Looks like that beast is on quite a rampage, huh? Wonder why that is."

Shinra turned around expectantly, not the least bit surprised by the sudden entrance. He greeted the newcomer with a friendly smile.

"Hey, what's up, Izaya-kun?"

"Nothing much," was his simple answer. Then, as they both observed Shizuo tear through another wave of thugs (one in awe, the other in disgust), he asked, "Shinra, you wouldn't happen to know what happened to Kei-chan, would you? She's been gone for a few days."

There was no point in asking—he already knew for himself. One could say that he was simply interested in hearing Shinra's response.

"Nope, no idea. She just ran out, and I haven't seen her since. Amane-senpai said that she wasn't feeling well, which I guess makes sense," he chirped, seemingly not worried about the strange situation at all.

"Would you think it has anything to do with that monster's temper being shorter than usual?" Izaya asked with a smirk, an animalistic growl coming from outside just as the words left his mouth. The sound grated against his nerves, making it difficult for him to retain his ever-present smile.

Shinra shrugged and linked his arms behind his back, turning to face him with an inquisitive expression. "I don't know, maybe."

Another loud shout accompanied an even louder crashing sound, echoed by a chorus of terrified shrieks. Shinra walked around one of the lab tables, observing a translucent anatomical model as he asked, "Why are you so interested in her, anyway?"

"Hm?"

Shinra didn't break his gaze from the model, his smile falling. However, his expression wasn't threatening—it was more like one of genuine curiosity. "You seem to talk about her a lot. I know you said that you love all humans, but it seems like all you're doing is making her life more difficult. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't really call that 'love.'"

Izaya paused, absentmindedly tracing the outline of a crude drawing on one of the desks before responding.

"Are you saying you're going to try and stop me?"

"I didn't say that. It's just that I've never seen you take so much interest in a specific human before. It's kinda unexpected, to be honest," Shinra said with a short laugh, absently scratching the back of his head as he peered at Izaya.

This time, Izaya met his friend's gaze and took a moment to think through his response. It was an earnest question, and it wasn't like he had anything to lose by answering. "Dangle the carrot," as they say.

"Well, you know how wedding vows go? 'For better or for worse'—I guess you could say it's a little bit like that. I simply want to see Kei-chan in all kinds of scenarios, whether they're good or bad. Is that so wrong?"

Smiling cheekily, Shinra wagged his finger in Izaya's face. "Oh, I get it now! You're in love with her, aren't you?"

Izaya regarded his friend with a slightly irritated look. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Shinra blatantly ignored his question, choosing to continue with his clearly misguided tangent.

"And it's not that 'unconditional love for humankind' kinda love, is it? You're in _love-love_ kinda love, like the beautifully poignant love that I share with my dear Celty! Ah, finally, we have something fun to talk about!"

Izaya pressed his lips into a thin line and bopped Shinra on the head with a rolled-up magazine. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Shinra. Besides," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets, "I just admitted that I wanted to see Kei react to bad situations. Are you not going to question that?"

"Well, I can't really tell you if it's wrong or not," Shinra sighed, "because I know that whatever I say won't change your mind." He peered at Izaya, a slightly worried expression on his face—a rare show of sympathy. "But still, Amane-san is a nice person. I don't really think she deserves this kind of treatment."

Izaya grinned as he toyed with one of the pendulums that sat on the teacher's unoccupied desk, watching it swing back and forth. "Kei-chan isn't any specific kind of person. That's what I find so interesting about her."

"You think she's interesting?"

Izaya sighed tiredly. "I thought I've made that obvious by now."

"Well, yeah, but..." Shinra trailed off, trying to find the appropriate words to address his concerns without painting himself into a corner. "If you think she's so interesting, then how come you and Shizuo-kun can't get along?"

Izaya frowned. "In what possible way does that monster relate to this at all?"

Shrugging carelessly, Shinra waved his hands as he attempted to reason through his statement. "Well, they're both pretty similar, since they both have some kind of strange power unlike any other human, so I thought—"

"I wouldn't insult her by comparing her to that single-celled protozoan," Izaya cut in, his tone unintentionally sharp. Shinra only grinned.

"Oh? Well, if she's not a monster, then what is she to you?"

He thought for a moment. Then, a calm smile stretched his face once again.

"Shinra, do you know what a homunculus is?"

Shinra tapped his chin in thought. "I think I've heard of it. Isn't that a man-made human or something?"

The pendulum swings.

"Not exactly." Izaya turned to face his friend, still retaining that eerily calm smile. "The homunculus was first mentioned in the writings of the famous alchemist, Paracelsus, as a man-made representation of a small human being."

Shinra blinked, gazing at Izaya incredulously. "Wait, are you seriously calling Amane-san a miniature human?" Chuckling lightly, he said, "That's a little hard to imagine. For starters, she's not even mini-sized!"

Izaya waved his finger, as if he were a teacher chastising an elementary school student. "No, no, you're thinking too literally. It's more like, metaphorically, she's an undeveloped human," he corrected, his answer no less cryptic than it was before. "Her emotions are hidden, and each one is new to her. Just as her reactions to things are restrained, a homunculus is imprisoned as a dwarf in a flask, unable to escape its glass cage."

"Wow, you're really into alchemy all of a sudden. It's actually kinda creepy."

"It's not that I'm interested in alchemical sciences," Izaya responded, paying no heed to Shinra's underlying insult. "It's more like I want to break the bottle, and to see what she does with the shattered pieces." He toyed with the untouched science equipment as he spoke, absentmindedly rubbing the lip of an Erlenmeyer flask with his fingertip. "And once her barrier is broken, I want to see how she will react to the world—or, more realistically, how the world will react to her." He looked up at the ceiling and shrugged, although the motion seemed more brazen than careless. "You know, I guess you could say I'm doing an experiment."

"One where you try to mentally break somebody?" Shinra commented wryly. "Yeah, I've heard that one before."

Izaya smiled in the face of his friend's skeptic gaze. "Oh, I didn't say that I wanted to break her. That was what I originally planned, but I've changed my mind since then. You see, I hypothesize that once the flask has been broken, Kei-chan will just absorb the atmosphere—assimilate, if you will—and take on its qualities as her own."

He spoke with a childlike excitement, as if the very idea was more entertaining to him than the actual process of it.

"Is that so?" Shinra questioned curiously. "Well, what are you gonna do if she takes on Shizuo-kun's qualities? They're together a lot, you know. Are you just gonna give up and call her a monster, too?" His tone was teasing, borderline challenging—a tone that seemed inappropriate for a conversation of this caliber.

Laughing, Izaya shook his head. "Yeah, that probably won't happen, considering her situation now." He looked out the window, frowning with disdain as his mortal enemy performed feats of monstrous strength that one would only expect from an action movie. "But you have to wonder, if Kei-chan is exposed to the most horrid, most vile, most disgusting parts of humanity..."

Turning to Shinra, he smiled, and this time, there was no hidden evil behind it. There was only pure glee.

"What form will she take?"

* * *

"Kei-chan, don't you think it's been long enough?"

Kei woke up at 3:00 in the morning that day. She had been absent for almost a week, and for the majority of that time, she had been doing nothing but sleeping her day away and occasionally finishing the homework she had missed—and that was only when she had the motivation to do anything at all.

After she had woken up at the ungodly hours of dawn, she decided that she might as well start her day, busying herself with making a cup of tea.

It was 6:00 in the morning now. She had been "busying" herself for almost three hours, and up until that moment, she had been without distraction.

Unfortunately, Akira had noticed her sister frozen in place for the past fifteen minutes, standing next to the sink with a spoon clutched in one hand while the other held a mug in midair. Her hair was messy and unkempt, and the oversized sweatshirt she wore ghosted past the back of her thighs. Even now, after Akira's voice cut into the stale air, she did not move a muscle.

"Please, come back to school. Everyone's asking where you've been," Akira pleaded, hoping that maybe this time, out of the hundred times she'd asked, her sister would finally listen.

It ended up being just like those other hundred times.

"I'm fine. I'll be there tomorrow."

It had been that same excuse every time. A hundred was too many, and Akira was fed up. She clenched her fists, figuratively bracing herself for the verbal onslaught she was about to unload.

"What's going on, Kei-chan? Ever since that day you were out with Heiwajima, you've been avoiding school. Why? What happened that was so terrible that it forced you to act like _this—_ "

 _SNAP!_

Akira flinched back, her eyes widening as Kei's thumb hovered over the split half of the spoon in her right hand. Dropping the empty mug into the sink, Kei gripped the marbled edges until her knuckles turned deathly pale.

"Just go to school, Akira," she muttered darkly.

She hesitated.

" _Go._ "

Sucking in a breath, Akira stood still in the dining room, stuck between wanting to smack some sense into Kei and also wanting to wrap her up in a hug and scare away all of her worries. The air was electric between them—one wrong move, one wrong word, and lightning would strike them both, and there would be nothing they could do to recover.

Without a word, Akira stalked out of the house, slamming the door behind her. The force rattled the walls slightly, and then it was silent.

Silent and empty.

Kei relinquished her death-grip on the counter, waiting a few minutes before finally gathering up enough energy to actually finish making a cup of tea. After dumping three hefty tablespoons of sugar into the cup and mixing it briefly, she took a sip.

It tasted disgusting.

She downed it all in one gulp, ignoring the overflowing streams that dripped down the sides of her mouth. Then, she tossed it into the sink along with its neglected brother and plopped down onto the couch, wrapping the blankets around her until she faintly resembled a burrito made of colored fabric.

She really was fine. The more she pretended, the easier it was to believe it.

Now that Shizuo had finally seen her for who she truly was, there was nothing she could do to reverse it. The best course of action, in her mind, would be to pretend that nothing had ever happened—and that included her friendship with him. Although, completely erasing an entire relationship from her life was harder than she thought. However, it was a necessary step.

 _Keep telling yourself that._

It was better than going back to her daily life and believing that he thought she was a monster, too. She recognized that it was selfish, but now that she knew for sure that selfishness had become a solid part of her character, it was much easier to perform deeds of that sort.

Strange, isn't it?

Just as she was about to fall into a deep sleep, her phone rang. She peered at it curiously. For the days she had been absent, nobody had tried to call her. Well, Celty had, but after five attempts and Kei still refused to answer, she had stopped.

For a fleeting moment, Kei wondered if it was Shizuo—that idea was stifled by her subconscious as quickly as it came, as it reminded her that he didn't even have her phone number.

It also cruelly reminded her that he probably wouldn't have called even if he did.

 _Stop being so pathetic,_ she scolded herself. _It does not matter anymore._

Sluggishly, as if her limbs were being weighted down by anchors, Kei picked up her phone. The number flashing on the screen was not in her contacts. Flipping her phone open, she cautiously held it up to her ear, almost like she expected a hand to physically claw its way through and grip her by the throat.

"Who is this?" she muttered.

"That's a pretty rude way to greet someone, Kei-chan."

Maybe she would've been shocked a few months before, but now, this kind of thing didn't really affect her.

"How did you get my phone number?" she asked. A soft chuckle came from the other end of the call.

"Are you really still questioning how I do things?" Izaya replied sardonically. "Anyway, I was just calling to check up on you. I've heard that you've fallen ill with something—how awful!"

"Do not pretend that you care," she retorted bitterly.

"I'm hurt! How could you even begin to think that I'm pretending? I was actually genuinely worried about you for the first few days!"

His words were coated in honey, and although Kei normally enjoyed sweet things, there was only so much she could take before sugar started tasting rancid on her tongue.

"Is that so..."

She could practically feel him grinning through the phone.

"So, how long are you going to hide away in your rabbit hole for? I thought I told you that running from your problems is impossible."

Kei tensed up slightly, gripping the phone a bit tighter. "I know that."

"Oh, really? Then I suppose you're not worrying about poor Akira-san walking to school all alone. This world is filled with some pretty bad people, Kei-chan. Who knows what could happen to her?"

In that moment, her suspicions were confirmed. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or furious.

"You are involved, aren't you?"

Izaya smirked at her words. "Involved in what? I don't know what you're going on abou—"

He always spoke like this, she realized. Always asking questions, laying out the land so that whoever he was talking to would expose themselves to him without a second thought. He never even had to lift a finger—which is why he didn't expect her next words.

"Please, stay out of it."

This surprised him.

His voice took on mock incredulity as he spoke. "Are you seriously trying to protect me? That's adorable!"

"Izaya-san."

He paused, momentarily caught off-guard by her tone of her voice that, if she were anyone else, he would have called "pleading." For only a second, his chipper façade melted away.

"What is it?"

Her voice was calm and unwavering as she spoke, a fact that was surprising even to herself. "These people are dangerous, even to someone like you. I know you will not listen, but even so, I will still tell you. Stay out of it."

She held the phone away from her ear as he laughed.

"Ah, Kei-chan, I'm sorry to say this—really, I am—but there are many things that you don't know, and it's just too hilarious."

"If you were truly sorry, you would not find it funny."

"I can't help it. Kei-chan, you really are one of the most interesting people I've ever met!"

She didn't understand his next words, but they still sent shivers down her spine, and in four years, when she would think back to this exact moment and ponder its meaning, their effect would be cataclysmic.

"I look forward to when your flask shatters."

* * *

 **Ah, sorry if Kei was acting super angsty this chapter! I think I enjoy torturing my characters too much...**

 **Also, I don't know if you could tell, but I had so much fun writing the dialogue between Shinra and Izaya! They're both super intricate and complex characters, so their interactions are extra interesting!**

 **I'm sorry that everyone's favorite angry child didn't appear much this chapter, but there will be lots of quality Shizu-chan in the next one to make up for it! (Plus, I kinda wanted this chapter to shine a light on the Izaya/OC relationship in this story for all the Izaya lovers out there.)**

 **Please review, and thank you for reading!** **(=^_^=)**


	8. Author's Note!

_Hey guys!_

 _That's right, I'M ALIVEEEEE!_

 _First of all, I just want to say that I'm so sorry for how long it's taken me to update! However, sometimes life gets in the way and you just gotta deal with it (even though it sucks)._

 _Second of all, do not worry because I am not giving up on this story and I'm definitely not planning to in the future! I've invested too many emotions into my characters, damn it!_

 _So now I'll get to the reason why I'm making this weird author's note chapter thing._

 _I've been really busy lately, so I haven't really had a chance to get back into Durarara!, and as a result it's prevented me from really making any progress with future chapters. However, I've recently had a pretty stress-free break, and during that time I was finally able to hype myself up again for writing. I was rereading some of my work when I realized that there were a few changes that I needed to make before continuing._ _Don't worry, there aren't going to be any major plot changes or anything, and I'm not changing my characters all of a sudden! I'm still planning to go through with the original storyline that I'd laid out, but I think I'll be able to better accomplish the things I want to do if I get the changes out of the way first. It's mainly chapters 6 and 7 that I'm planning on rewriting, mostly because they didn't really seem to flow well and didn't vibe with how earlier chapters were laid out. To me, everything seemed too cryptic and kinda contrived, which I think isn't the proper mood for this story. Once I have those done, it'll be much easier for me to mesh everything together and continue with the storyline. I might also make a few small edits to chapters 1-5 (nothing major, just cleaning up some scenes and fixing some dialogue)._

 _I'm sorry that I didn't do this sooner, but I hope you will bear with me. I know that there are people who enjoy this story, so I really want to make it as good as it can be! Seeing the follows and favorites on my story and reading the awesome reviews really motivated me and put some pep back in my step, so thank you for that._

 _I don't know how long it'll take me to do all this, and I don't want to give any of you false hope if I fail to meet a deadline, but I assure you that I will try to finish everything as quickly as possible, and then it'll finally be time for the real chapter 8!_

 _Sorry for this ridiculously long rant, hehe..._

 _Peace out, my dudes!_


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